The One With Phoebe's Cookies
Monica: I'll be the mom who makes the world's best chocolate-chip cookies.
Chandler: Our kids are gonna be fat, aren't they.
Rachel: When I was fifteen my dad bought me my own boat.
Phoebe: Your own boat?
Rachel: What, what? He was trying to cheer me up. My pony was sick.
Ross: Hey, Chandler, what are you doing tonight?
Chandler: Uh, why? Do you have a lecture?
Ross: No, why?
Chandler: I'm free as a bird. What's up?
Monica: You have to let him win. He hates to lose.
Chandler: Oh, no problem, maybe I'll play with my left hand.
Ross: You're not a lefty?
Chandler: Does anybody know me?
Phoebe: That stupid fire burned it up!
Monica: No! Why didn't you make a copy and keep it in a fire-proof box and keep it at least a hundred yards away from the original?
Phoebe: Because, I'm normal.
Chandler: We can't accept this.
Phoebe: Why not?
Chandler: Because it's gross.
Rachel: How do you get the mainsail up?
Joey: Uh, rub it?
Rachel: You wanna pay attention or do you want to die?
Joey: I want to make a ship-to-shore call to Chandler.
Monica to Chandler: You gave my father a lap dance!
Ross: He still tells the story about how Monica tried to escape from fat camp.
Monica: I wasn't escaping.
Ross: Then how'd you get caught in the barbed wire?
Monica: I was trying to help out a squirrel.
Ross: You were trying to eat it.
Ross: You have to respect the sea!
Rachel: Oh, I'm my father. Oh my God, this is horrible. I've been trying so hard not to be my mother I didn't see this coming.
Monica: I guess I'm not gonna be the mom who makes the world's best chocolate-chip cookies. I do make the best duck confit with broccoli rabe. Kids love that, right?
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