The One with the Boob Job

What? What? -Shaving? -No, rabies.

...farting on my lap. Not so funny when someone does that to you, is it?

Who's painting us?

...since I was a kid and they came up with Double Stuf Oreos.

...but I'm inclined to blame Enron.

Although it would be nice if the thing that you loved was finding gold.

And maybe we start eating out of Joey's refrigerator for a change.

You're a chef. What can you make out of baking soda and beer?

Or, you slipped on ice at their house last month. Can we sue them?

If there's one thing my father taught me, it was... well, to always knock before going into the pool house.

...even if it means you working twice as hard.

No, I don't-- Get him. Get him! Separate the sick one from the herd!

I put that tube top on as a joke.

Why don't you turn them inside-- Done it.

Oh, fine. Yeah, you got away. But don't look so smug. You're gonna bleed to death.

Partly because I live above a known crack den...

Wow, Mike Hanigan... you sure know how to make a girl say 'Hell, yeah.'

Pick up your socks. Put down the toilet seat. No, we are not having sex anymore.

A man's ass is not nudity!

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought about it myself. But Chandler is my best friend. It would be wrong. Good, but wrong.

Okay, first of all, it would be great.

What do you think I am, a soap opera star? Yeah. That's right, I am.

Chandler? Pride? I know, he thinks he has it. It's really cute.

Whoops, Joey fell down the stairs. Or, 'Whoops, Joey electrocuted himself again.'

Women can. You can't.

There is a hardware store right down the street?

Unless they're playing 'This Is What My Sister Would Look Like.' Yeah, she's not so cute.

Is that a bit you guys do? Uh-huh. We're playing you two.

I'm a scientist. I observe.

...that highlights my breasts in an obvious yet classy way.

Oh, my God, load up the Volvo, I want to be a soccer mom.

Don't you mean 'groomie'?

Honey, leave the terrible jokes to me.

Wow, seriously. Can't do this.

That is the fastest I have ever thought.

I am on fire.

Boob job.

Making them smaller, that would be crazy.

I don't have any porn. Back of the closet in my bedroom.

Well, I think the reason people laughed is that it's a play on the word 'roomie.'

I get the joke. Sophisticated as it was.

Okay, well, that's bad. Yeah.

Perhaps... a blond who always uses the toilet? Except for once in the ocean.

Yeah. I don't know who I was kidding. I can barely use chopsticks.

Moths?

And definitely not... two single things.

I am warm... for your form.

Don't answer that.

Just when you thought that dude couldn't get any weirder.

My God, he sounded just like my high-school wrestling coach.

God, it's just such a magical time.

Seriously, you? 'Divorce-o'?

If you have to call me a name, I'd prefer 'Ross, the Divorcer.' It's just cooler.

And once afterward.

It's not cooler.

Fascist.

Your ass?!

...but the giant ass and the big clown feet?

What?

Okay, so I'm out $4000 and nobody's boobs are getting any bigger?

Hey. Hey, what do you guys think about this: Ross, the Divorce Force.

They are awfully boxy.

You know, sometimes your words, they hurt.

I mean, not for me, because I'm only pretending to hold it, but for these guys.

And...hernia.

I said to bring the cushions up first, but no.

Look on the bright side. At least you won't have to live with this ugly chair.

That was here already, huh?

Who knows when I'll be able to get in here again, huh?