Monica: I'm gonna hang this basket on the door, and when the neighbors walk by they can all take a piece.
Chandler: But we don't know the neighbors.
Joey: I do. There's, uh, let's see, "Guy With a Mustache," "Smokes A Lot Lady," "Some Kids I've Seen," and, "A Red-haired Guy Who Does Not Like To Be Called Rusty.

Rachel: So did you read your evaluation yet?
Tag: No, it was marked confidential. I just sent it down to Human Resources.
Rachel: Okay, please, you're kidding right? I wrote that one as a joke for you!
Tag: A joke they would appreciate?
Rachel: I'm thinkin' no.
Tag: What did you say?
Rachel: Um, I said I thought you were a good kisser, and, uh... and that I like your teeny-tiny touchie.
Tag: No, not my touchie.
Rachel: Well, it gets worse. When asked if you take initiative I wrote, "Yes, he was able to unhook my bra with minimal supervision," and under Problems with Performance I wrote, "Dear God, I hope not," and then, uh... then I drew a little smiley face, and then a small pornographic sketch.

Chandler: Stop making candy!
Monica: But they like it!
Chandler: You mean they like you.
Monica: Maybe.
Chandler: Is that why you became a chef? So that people would like you?
Monica: Oh, you really want to talk about getting people to like you? Huh, funny man?

Chandler:Are you okay?
Monica: I'm fine now, but it was really scary there for a while. I mean, someone slipped a threatening note under the door.
Joey: Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Mob mentality or whatever, I don't know...