Phoebe: Ugly Naked Guy is decorating his tree. Oh my God, you should see the size of his Christmas Balls!
Phoebe: A plate of brownies once told me a limerick.
Chandler: Pheebs, let me ask you something, were, were these, uh, funny brownies?
Phoebe: Not especially. But you know what, I think they had pot in them.
Ross: Yeah, but not very well, unless 14-across, 'Gershwin musical' actually is bitemebitemebitemebiteme.
Rachel: Phoebe, I thought your dad was in prison.
Phoebe: No, that's my stepdad. My real dad's the one that ran out on us before I was born.
Rachel: How have you never been on Oprah?
Joey: So anyway, I'm trying to get my boss's ex-wife to sleep with me. . .
Joey: Oh, but when Phoebe has a problem, everyone's all ears!
Phoebe: I smell smoke. Maybe that's 'cause someone's pants are on fire!
Chandler: You know I remember my father, all dressed up in the red suit, the big black boots, and the patent leather belt, sneakin' around downstairs. He didn't want anybody to see him but he'd be drunk so he'd stumble, crash into something and wake everybody up.
Rachel: Well, that doesn't sound like a very merry Christmas.
Chandler: Who said anything about Christmas?
Monica: (about Phoebe) I hope she's OK.
Joey: Yeah, I know exactly what she's going through.
Monica: How do you know exactly what she's going through?
Joey: She told us.
Monica: You guys haven't gotten your presents yet? Tomorrow's Christmas Eve, what're you gonna do?
Chandler: Don't you have to be Claymation to say stuff like that?
Phoebe: Hello, Grandma, if that is in fact your real name...
Phoebe: (to a picture of Einstein) Wish me luck, Grandpa!
Chandler: Ho, ho, ho, holy crap is it hot in here!