Relationships? Well, Sigmund, relationships are so fragile. It just takes one thing, one... tiny little offence, and it can snowball on you. And if that snowball starts to pick up speed, God forbid, you better tuck and go. <...> And bam! The shine's off the apple. That's when you find out that that pretty girl you married isn't a pretty girl at all. No. She's a man-eater. And I'm not talking about the ''Whoa, whoa, here she comes'' kind of man-eater. I'm talking about the kind that uses your dignity as a dishtowel to wipe up any shreds of manhood that might be stuck inside the sink. I may have tormented her from time to time, but that's what I thought marriage was all about. So much so, that by the end of that relationship, I honestly don't know
who I hated more: her or me. I used to sit around and wonder why our friends weren't trying to destroy each other, like we were. And here it turns out the answer's pretty simple. They weren't unhappy. We were. <...> Relationships don't work the way they do in the movies. Will they? Won't they? They finally do and they're happy for ever. Nine out of ten end because they weren't right for each other to begin with, and half of the ones that get married get divorced anyway. And through all this, I have not become a cynic. I do happen to believe that love is mainly about pushing chocolate-covered candies, and you know, in some cultures, a chicken. You can call me a sucker. I don't care. Because I do believe in it.
— As a matter of fact, I'd... like you to be the boy's godfather.
— I... am honored.
— I... am lying.
I like you... again. There. You win. You can do your victory dance or slaughter a goat, or whatever it is you do when you're happy.
Did we just slip into some alternate dimension where I give a flying duckie about what you say and do?
Everyone, this is my sister, Paige. I'd like you to meet random people I don't care about.
— Well, then, Bobo, I figured out what's causing the fainting.
— Men don't faint. We take unintended, decisive naps.
— Dr Cox...
— If the next words aren't «See you», the third will be, «My crotch, you've punched me in the crotch».
— See you.
Perry Cox: — Right about now, I'm going to be entering my imaginary, soundproof glass bubble. That way, I don't have to be...
<...>
Resident: — Dr Cox.
Bob Kelso: — You might want to knock. He's in an imaginary glass bubble.
What you're saying is you have a problem that is totally your problem, but you'd like to make it my problem? But, here's the problem, Newbie, it's not my problem.
You're scaring everyone in the hospital. They're delivering a baby and it's using the umbilical cord to crawl back in.