J.D.: [v.o.] I'm such a total loser. My girlfriend and I broke up, I live in a tent. Plus, I feel sick enough to actually get checked out, and guess who's on call?
Dr. Cox: It doesn't look right.
J.D.: What? What is it?
Dr. Cox: You have a penis. Or that's what I think it is.
J.D.: It's a penis.
Dr. Cox: Fair enough.

J.D.: [v.o.] I wasn't the only one suffering. Turk's intern, Milos, was driving him nuts. See, Milos was already an accomplished surgeon in his war-torn homeland, but he still had to re-do his residency here.
Turk: Okay, everyone, let's take a look at that subcuticular stitch on Mr. Roth's chest. That is beautiful. We could all learn from whatever attending did that.
Milos: It was me. Would you like to take break? I finish taking frightened bunnies on rounds.
Turk: No, Milos, I would not like to take a break! I'm absolutely fine right here, thank you!
Milos: Okay, fine.
Turk: You know what? Everyone head down observation and check on Mr. Foley's arm reattachment. [everyone but Milos leaves] What? You don't think you can learn from seeing an actual arm reattachment, Milos?
Milos: I reattach child's arm once in rusty shell of car. I can still see their bodies that littered streets as my country burned to ground.

Turk: Milos is so lucky.
Carla: Turk, you're the only one in the world who would think that!
[later:]
J.D.: Milos is so lucky.
Turk: That's what I'm saying!

J.D.: Well, I read up on vasovagal syncope. To treat it I have to work on reducing my stress. At least Buzz agreed not to call the cops if I don't tell all the other neighbors Donna's barren.
Turk: Damn, dude, you've got it pretty rough.
J.D.: You hear that, everybody? I do have it rough, and that's coming from a man who knows a teensy bit about adversity. And why is that, Turk?
Turk: Because I'm black.
J.D.: No, because you have diabetes. What's hard about being black?

Turk: So you called this meeting to say we should lie more?
Dr. Cox: Sorry about that, Bobbo, but I'm gonna go and tell the truth whenever I damn will, please. For instance, your tie. It's hideous. In fact, its only redeeming quality is to divert attention from the very visible outline of your man-girdle.
Dr. Kelso: Too mean.

Nurse Roberts: [over bullhorn] Bedpan race!
Turk: Put your bedpans on, Elliot.
Elliot: I thought we were carrying them.
Turk: Put 'em on!
Carla: Last one down gets to take care of J.D. Ready? Go!

Elliot: I'm totally excited to be here, buddy. Let's start talking about your life.
J.D.: Okay, first I have to go to the bathroom. Do me a favor? Tie this string around your wrist. If you feel it tug, that means I'm down. Run in and check on me.

Brian: How is Izzy doing?
Turk: Wow, look at you remembering my daughter's name. I'm telling you, your short term memory is getting better.
Brian: No, I had the nurses write some stuff down. You see, apparently, I like bananas. And, whoa, I'm getting more surgery tomorrow?
Turk: You have a small bowel obstruction. Basically, the shrapnel in your stomach has caused scar tissue to form.
Brian: In Iraq, we prefer to think of shrapnel as internal body bling.
Turk: Wow, then bling bling.

Brian: So, hmm, have any of your patients ever died from this procedure?
Turk: Oh, yeah a couple of years ago. A guy had a bad reaction to anesthesia, but that's not gonna happen to you. You know what? We should have a nurse write that down.
Brian: I like bananas?
Dr. Kelso: [ghostly voiuce] You shouldn't have told him the truth... uth, uth, uth uth, uth, uth.
Turk: Dr. Kelso.
Dr. Kelso: uth.
Turk: You can "uth" all you want, but I'm not gonna B.S. Brian.

[As Elliot holds a glass of beer, somebody tugs on the string tied to her wrist, spilling beer all over her chest]
Elliot: Whoever has the other end of this string, that's not funny! Wow, my boobs do look good when they're wet, don't they?
J.D.: Yeah, they do.