The One with the List

Monica, get the wine and unplug the phone.

Does this end well or do we need to get tissues?

And then I kissed her. Tongue? - Yeah. - Cool.

Wow. What are you gonna use it for? Games and stuff.

No, but if you're willing to cook naked, then you might be willing to dance naked.

That is funny. That is painfully funny. No, wait, wait. Yeah, that's just painful.

You got all that from saline solution?

Me and Julie, me and Rachel. Me and Julie, me and Rach... Rachel! Rachel.

So everybody's here. Everybody's good.

This is a song, um, about a love triangle... between three people I made up.

Two of Them Kissed Last Night

Or will it be the one Who we'll call Loolie?

Mockolate. - I'm sorry? - Mockolate. It's a synthetic chocolate substitute.

Yeah. Ha-ha-ha. I love how it crumbles. - You see, chocolate doesn't do that.

we can make Thanksgiving the Mockolate holiday

Just waiting for it to stop bubbling.

Especially that aftertaste. You know, I tell you... that'll last you till Christmas.

What makes it Pilgrim? We'll put buckles on it.

Hi, I'm Julie. Ross picked me. We'll get married and have lots of kids and dig up stuff together!

No offense, but that sounds nothing like her.

Oh, I know. This must be so hard. 'Oh, no! Two women love me! They're both gorgeous and sexy, my wallet's too small for my 50s... and my diamond shoes are too tight!'

Don't ever touch the computer.

Ross, listen. I got two words for you: Threesome.

Can't we just use a pen? No, Amish boy.

But Rachel's just a waitress.

You guys wanna play 'Doom'? Or we could keep doing this.

her ankles are a little chubby

She's not Rachel.

Just like the Indians served.

Sweet Lord! Oh, this is what evil must taste like!

What is that in the background? Are you watching Star Trek?

Yes. It was horrible. She cried, I cried. She threw things, they hit me.

So Spock actually hugs his father?

It's the other thing.

Well, go hug her, for God's sakes!

He's going to get my coat. He's going to get my coat, Joey!

Hey, it's printing!

Because isn't that... the short story you were writing? Yes, it is a short story... that I was writing.

It was summer. And it was hot. Rachel was there. A lonely gray couch. 'Oh, look!' cried Ned. And then the kingdom was his forever. The end!

You're the worst writer in the world!

the idiot!

I do not have chubby ankles!

She's not Rachem? What the hell's a Rachem?

My diary. My diary! That's brilliant! If I'd said it was my diary, she wouldn't have made me read it.

No, that's true. You'd be a great person to have around the day after an emergency.

What a dinkus!

Oh, good. I was hoping that would come up.

Yeah. Listen, by the way, good luck in your next life as a dung beetle.

That doesn't mean, 'Climb up the fire escape.'

How about a nice, steaming cup of hot Mockolate?

Imagine the worst things you think about yourself. Now, how would you feel if the one person that you trusted the most in the world... not only thinks them too... but actually uses them as reasons not to be with you.

See, I'd never make a list.

Maybe a little longer.

Something about laboratory rats. Huh.

So it doesn't burn when you pee, does it?

Tell him I'd come to the phone, but my ankles are weighing me down.

I don't wanna play your song anymore.

Oh, not at all. I have no morals, and I need the cash. It's like I'm looking in a mirror.

Fish-tachios. Now, they taste exactly like pistachios... but they're made of reconstituted fish bits.