Chandler what is the matter with your face

A bindle punk. He wins nine straight fights by knockouts so they get a swell price. I told him he should take one at that maybe.

McChesney said: "I wouldn't say no. How'd you beat his draw, Targo? Where was your gun? Targo put his hand back into his right hip pocket and jerked a handkerchief out quickly, stuck his finger through it like a gun barrel. Targo's big reddish face clouded a little. He nodded. McChesney leaned forward casually and twitched the handkerchief from his hand. He sniffed at it, unwrapped it, sniffed at it again, folded it and put it away in his own pocket. His face said nothing.

I got mine out first. McChesney smiled faintly and leaned far back, teetering on his heels. His faint smile seemed to slide off the end of his long nose. He looked Targo up and down. But you're fast for a big guy. Who got these threats? McChesney walked stiff-legged to the other end of the office, stood a moment looking at a hand-tinted sporting print. He came back slowly, drifted over to the door.

The two of you will have to come downtown and make statements. Let's go. He went out. The two dicks stood up, with Duke Targo between them. The gray-haired one snapped: "You goin' to act nice, bo? They went out. The blond dick waited for Jean Adrian to pass in front of him.

He swung the door, snarled back at Carmady: "As for you-nuts! He poured three glasses a third full, took one over to the striped sofa and spread his long legs out on it, leaned his head back and sipped the brandy. Carmady stood up and downed his drink. He got a cigarette out and rolled it around in his fingers, staring at Cyrano's smooth white face with an up-from-under look.

Cyrano blinked, massaged his lips with a fat hand. It was just a regular weekly show. It don't listen, does it? Carmady put the cigarette in his mouth and leaned over the desk to strike a match. He said: "If it does, murder's getting awfully cheap in this town. Cyrano didn't say anything. Gus Neishacker sipped the last of his brandy and carefully put the empty glass down on a round cork table beside the sofa.

He stared at the ceiling, silently. After a moment Carmady nodded at the two men, crossed the room and went out, closed the door behind him. He went along a corridor off which dressing rooms opened, dark now. A curtained archway let him out at the back of the stage. In the foyer the headwaiter was standing at the glass doors, looking out at the rain and the back of a uniformed policeman. Carmady went into the empty cloakroom, found his hat and coat, put them on, came out to stand beside the headwaiter.

I'm sorry. Carmady nodded and went out into the rain. The uniformed man glanced at him casually. He went along the street to where the car had been left. It wasn't there. He looked up and down the street, stood for a few moments in the rain, then walked towards Melrose. The ramp of the Carondelet garage curved down into semidarkness and chilled air.

The dark bulks of stalled cars looked ominous against the whitewashed walls, and the single droplight in the small office had the relentless glitter of the death house. A big Negro in stained overalls came out rubbing his eyes, then his face split in an enormous grin. You kinda restless tonight? I bet my heap isn't here. I been all around wipin' off and yours ain't here aytall. He flicked a half-dollar through the air and went back up the ramp to the side street.

He turned towards the back of the hotel, came to an alleylike street one side of which was the rear wall of the Carondelet. The other side had two frame houses and a four-story brick building. Hotel Blaine was lettered on a round milky globe over the door.

Carmady went up three cement steps and tried the door. It was locked. He looked through the glass panel into a small dim empty lobby.

He got out two passkeys; the second one moved the lock a little. He pulled the door hard towards him, tried the first one again. That snicked the bolt far enough for the loosely fitted door to open. He went in and looked at an empty counter with a sign "Manager" beside a plunger bell. There was an oblong of empty numbered pigeonholes on the wall. Carmady went around behind the counter and fished a leather register out of a space under the top. He read names back three pages, found the boyish scrawl: "Tony Acosta," and a room number in another writing.

The hallway was very silent. There was weak light from a ceiling fixture. The last door but one on the left-hand side had a crack of light showing around its transom. That was the door He put his hand out to knock, then withdrew it without touching the door. Carmady's eyes looked down and saw what was almost a pool of blood on the stained wood before the door, beyond the edge of the runner.

His hand suddenly felt clammy inside his glove. He took the glove off, held the hand stiff, clawlike for a moment, then shook it slowly. His eyes had a sharp strained light in them. He got a handkerchief out, grasped the doorknob inside it, turned it slowly. The door was unlocked. He went in. There was light from the bowl that hung on three brass chains from the middle of the ceiling. It shone on a made-up bed, some painted, light-colored furniture, a dull green carpet, a square writing desk of eucalyptus wood.

Tony Acosta sat at the desk. His head was slumped forward on his left arm. Under the chair on which he sat, between the legs of the chair and his feet, there was a glistening brownish pool. Carmady walked across the room so rigidly that his ankles ached after the second step.

He reached the desk, touched Tony Acosta's shoulder. Tony didn't move. Carmady went around to his side. A blood-soaked bath towel glared against the boy's stomach, across his pressed-together thighs. His right hand was crouched against the front edge of the desk, as if he was trying to push himself up.

Almost under his face there was a scrawled envelope. Carmady pulled the envelope towards him slowly, lifted it like a thing of weight, read the wandering scrawl of words. The line trailed over the edge of the paper, became a blot there. The pen was on the floor. There was a bloody thumbprint on the envelope. Carmady folded it meticulously to protect the print, put the envelope in his wallet.

He lifted Tony's head, turned it a little towards him. The neck was still warm; it was beginning to stiffen. Tony's soft dark eyes were open and they held the quiet brightness of a cat's eyes. They had that effect the eyes of the new-dead have of almost, but not quite, looking at you.

Carmady lowered the head gently on the outstretched left arm. He stood laxly, his head on one side, his eyes almost sleepy. Then his head jerked back and his eyes hardened. He stripped off his raincoat and the suitcoat underneath, rolled his sleeves up, wet a face towel in the basin in the corner of the room and went to the door. He wiped the knobs off, bent down and wiped up the smeared blood from the floor outside. He rinsed the towel and hung it up to dry, wiped his hands carefully, put his coat on again.

He used his handkerchief to open the transom, to reverse the key and lock the door from the outside. He threw the key in over the top of the transom, heard it tinkle inside. He went downstairs and out of the Hotel Blame. It still rained. He walked to the corner, looked along a tree-shaded block. His car was a dozen yards from the intersection, parked carefully, the lights off, the keys in the ignition. He drew them out, felt the seat under the wheel. It was wet, sticky.

Carmady wiped his hand off, ran the windows up and locked the car. He left it where it was. Going back to the Carondelet he didn't meet anybody. The hard slanting rain still pounded down into the empty streets. There was a thin thread of light under the door of Carmady knocked lightly, looking up and down the hall, moved his gloved fingers softly on the panel while he waited.

He waited a long time. Then a voice spoke wearily behind the wood of the door. The door clicked, opened. He looked at a tired white face, dark eyes that were slatelike, not violet-blue. There were smudges under them as though mascara had been rubbed into the skin. The girl's strong little hand twitched on the edge of the door. Well, I've simply got to have a shower. I smell of policemen. She shrugged slowly, then nodded.

The closing door seemed to jump at him. He went along to his own rooms, threw off his hat and coat, poured whiskey into a glass and went into the bathroom to get ice water from the small tap over the basin.

He drank slowly, looking out of the windows at the dark breadth of the boulevard. A car slid by now and then, two beams of white light attached to nothing, emanating from nowhere. He finished the drink, stripped to the skin, went under a shower. He dressed in fresh clothes, refilled his big flask and put it in his inner pocket, took a snub-nosed automatic out of a suitcase and held it in his hand for a minute staring at it.

Then he put it back in the suitcase, lit a cigarette and smoked it through. The door was almost insidiously ajar. He slipped in with a light knock, shut the door, went on into the living room and looked at Jean Adrian. She was sitting on the davenport with a freshly scrubbed look, in loose plum-colored pajamas and a Chinese coat.

A tendril of damp hair drooped over one temple. Her small even features had the cameo-like clearness that tiredness gives to the very young.

Carmady said: "He has a lot to learn about cops. In the morning the cameras will be all set for him. The girl sipped her drink. Let's talk about what makes this your business. Her hand fumbled at it and while it still fumbled he said: "When you light that tell me why you shot him.

Jean Adrian put the cigarette between her lips, bent her head to the match, inhaled and threw her head back. Color awakened slowly in her eyes and a small smile curved the line of her pressed lips. She didn't answer. Carmady watched her for a minute, turning his glass in his hands. Then he stared at the floor, said: "It was your gun-the gun I picked up here in the afternoon.

Targo said he drew it from his hip pocket, the slowest draw in the world. Yet he's supposed to have shot twice, accurately enough to kill a man, while the man wasn't even getting his gun loose from a shoulder holster. That's hooey. But you, with the gun in a bag in your lap, and knowing the hood, might just have managed it. He would have been watching Targo.

The girl said emptily: "You're a private dick, I hear. You're the son of a boss politician. They talked about you downtown. They act a little afraid of you, of people you might know. Who sicked you on me? Carmady said: "They're not afraid of me, angel. They just talked like that to see how you'd react, if I was involved, so on. They don't know what it's all about. Carmady shook his head. He's too used to cooked-up stories.

I think McChesney's wise you did the shooting. He knows by now if that handkerchief of Targo's had been in a pocket with a gun. Her limp fingers discarded her cigarette half-smoked. A curtain eddied at the window and loose flakes of ash crawled around in the ash tray. She said slowly: "All right. I shot him. Do you think I'd hesitate after this afternoon? Carmady rubbed the lobe of his ear. Something has happened, something nasty.

Do you think the hood meant to kill Targo? Like the other one. After all a night club is a poor place for a getaway. She said sharply: "They don't do many low tackles on fortyfives. He'd have got away all right.

Of course he meant to kill somebody. And of course I didn't mean Duke to front for me. He just grabbed the gun out of my hand and slammed into his act. What did it matter? I knew it would all come out in the end. She poked absently at the still burning cigarette in the tray, kept her eyes down.

After a moment she said, almost in a whisper: "Is that all you wanted to know? Carmady let his eyes crawl sidewise, without moving his head, until he could just see the firm curve of her cheek, the strong line of her throat.

He said thickly: "Shenvair was in on it. The fellow I was with at Cyrano's followed Shenvair to a hideout. Shenvair shot him. He's dead. He's dead, angel-just a young kid that worked here in the hotel.

Tony, the bell captain. The cops don't know that yet. The muffled clang of elevator doors was heavy through the silence. A horn tooted dismally out in the rain on the boulevard. The girl sagged forward suddenly, then sidewise, fell across Carmady's knees. Her body was half turned and she lay almost on her back across his thighs, her eyelids flickering. The small blue veins in them stood out rigid in the soft skin.

He put his arms around her slowly, loosely, then they tightened, lifted her. He brought her face close to his own face. He kissed her on the side of the mouth. Her eyes opened, stared blankly, unfocused. He kissed her again, tightly, then pushed her upright on the davenport. You come here and tell me another man has been killed-and then you kiss me. It isn't real. Carmady said dully: "There's something horrible about any man that goes suddenly gaga over another man's woman.

Carmady shrugged. They stared at each other with bleak hostile eyes. The girl clicked her teeth shut, then said almost violently: "Get out! I can't talk to you any more. I can't stand you around. Will you get out? The girl sobbed once sharply, then she went in light quick strides across the room to the windows, became motionless with her back to him. Carmady looked at her back, went over near her and stood looking at the soft hair low down on her neck.

He said: "Why the hell don't you let me help? I know there's something wrong. I wouldn't hurt you. The girl spoke to the curtain in front of her face, savagely: "Get out! I don't want your help.

Go away and stay away. I won't be seeing you-ever. Carmady said slowly: "I think you've got to have help. Whether you like it or not. That man in the photo frame on the desk there-I think I know who he is. And I don't think he's dead. The girl turned. Her face now was as white as paper. Her eyes strained at his eyes. She breathed thickly, harshly. After what seemed a long time she said: "I'm caught. There's nothing you can do about it.

Carmady lifted a hand and drew his fingers slowly down her cheek, down the angle of her tight jaw. His eyes held a hard brown glitter, his lips a smile. It was cunning, almost a dishonest smile. He went back across the room, through the little hallway, opened the door. When the door opened the girl clutched at the curtain and rubbed her face against it slowly.

Carmady didn't shut the door. He stood quite still halfway through it, looking at two men who stood there with guns. They stood close to the door, as if they had been about to knock. One was thick, dark, saturnine. The other one was an albino with sharp red eyes, a narrow head that showed shining snow-white hair under a rain-spattered dark hat.

He had the thin sharp teeth and the drawn-back grin of a rat. Carmady started to close the door behind him. The albino said: "Hold it, rube. The door, I mean. We're goin' in. The other man slid forward and pressed his left hand up and down Carmady's body carefully. He stepped away, said: "No gat, but a swell flask under his arm. Carmady said tonelessly: "It doesn't take a gun, Critz.

I know you and I know your boss. If he wants to see me, I'll be glad to talk to him. Jean Adrian hadn't moved. She stood by the window still, the curtain against her cheek, her eyes closed, as if she hadn't heard the voices at the door at all. Then she heard them come in and her eyes snapped open. She turned slowly, stared past Carmady at the two gunmen. The albino walked to the middle of the room, looked around it without speaking, went on into the bedroom and bathroom.

Doors opened and shut. He came back in quiet catlike feet, pulled his overcoat open and pushed his hat back on his head. The lines of her face got thin and contemptuous. She said slowly: "You-You She went across the room stiffly and out of it into the bedroom. The albino slipped a cigarette between his sharp lips, chuckled with a wet, gurgling sound, as if his mouth was full of saliva.

Carmady frowned. He walked slowly to the writing desk, leaned his hips against it, stared at the floor. His hands, reaching casually behind him on the desk, tapped the top of it lightly, then without apparent change of movement folded the leather photo frame down on its side and edged it under the blotter.

There was a padded arm rest in the middle of the rear seat of the car, and Carmady leaned an elbow on it, cupped his chin in his hand, stared through the half-misted windows at the rain. It was thick white spray in the headlights, and the noise of it on the top of the car was like drum fire very far off.

Jean Adrian sat on the other side of the arm rest, in the corner. She wore a black hat and a gray coat with tufts of silky hair on it, longer than caracul and not so curly. She didn't look at Carmady or speak to him. The albino sat on the right of the thick dark man, who drove.

They went through silent streets, past blurred houses, blurred trees, the blurred shine of street lights. There were neon signs behind the thick curtains of mist. There was no sky. Then they climbed and a feeble arc light strung over an intersection threw light on a signpost, and Carmady read the name "Court Street.

He said softly: "This is woptown, Critz. The big guy can't be so dough-heavy as he used to be. The car slowed in front of a big frame house with a trellised porch, walls finished in round shingles, blind, lightless windows.

Across the street, a stencil sign on a brick building built sheer to the sidewalk said: "Paolo Perrugini Funeral Parlors. The car swung out to make a wide turn into a gravel driveway. Lights splashed into an open garage. They went in, slid to a stop beside a big shiny undertaker's ambulance. The dark man cut the motor and snapped on a big flash, then cut the lights, got out of the car. He shot the beam of the flash up a narrow flight of wooden steps in the corner.

The albino said: "Up you go, rube. Push the girl ahead of you. I'm behind with my rod. Jean Adrian got out of the car past Carmady, without looking at him. She went up the steps stiffly, and the three men made a procession behind her. There was a door at the top. The girl opened it and hard white light came out at them. They went into a bare attic with exposed studding, a square window in front and rear, shut tight, the glass painted black.

A bright bulb hung on a drop cord over a kitchen table and a big man sat at the table with a saucer of cigarette butts at his elbow. Two of them still smoked. A thin loose-lipped man sat on a bed with a Luger beside his left hand.

There was a worn carpet on the floor, a few sticks of furniture, a half-opened clapboard door in the corner through which a toilet seat showed, and one end of a big old-fashioned bathtub standing up from the floor on iron legs. The man at the kitchen table was large but not handsome. He had carroty hair and eyebrows a shade darker, a square aggressive face, a strong jaw.

His thick lips held his cigarette brutally. His clothes looked as if they had cost a great deal of money and had been slept in. He glanced carelessly at Jean Adrian, said around the cigarette: "Park the body, sister. Hi, Carmady. Gimme that rod, Lefty, and you boys drop down below again.

The girl went quietly across the attic and sat down in a straight wooden chair. The man on the bed stood up, put the Luger at the big man's elbow on the kitchen table. The three gunmen went down the stairs, leaving the door open.

Maybe you remember me. Carmady stood loosely by the kitchen table, with his legs spread wide, his hands in his overcoat pockets, his head tilted back. His half-closed eyes were sleepy, very cold. Conant grinned without opening his lips. His expression was grimly good-humored. He said: "Let's not barber. We got business to do and you know better than that last crack. Sit down-or rather take a look at Exhibit One first.

In the bathtub, behind you. Yeah, take a look at that. Then we can get down to tacks. Carmady turned, went across to the clapboard door, pushed through it.

There was a bulb sticking out of the wall, with a key switch. He snapped it on, bent over the tub. For a moment his body was quite rigid and his breath was held rigidly. Then he let it out very slowly, and reached his left hand back and pushed the door almost shut. He bent farther over the big iron tub. It was long enough for a man to stretch out in, and a man was stretched out in it, on his back. He was fully dressed even to a hat, although his head didn't look as if he had put it on himself.

He had thick, gray-brown curly hair. There was blood on his face and there was a gouged, red-rimmed hole at the inner corner of his left eye. Carmady sucked in his breath and straightened slowly, then suddenly bent forward still further until he could see into the space between the tub and the wall.

So this is a part of the Juneteenth album that was created by Maverick City. I can tell you, you called me, like, I know you were down to the final hours and I know we had talked about working together anyways.

So this is me, you, and Rusty. It was just a matter of time we would get together. And when you reached out to me for this song, I was super excited. Timing was crazy. I believe I was like probably fresh after having baby. But I just remember you asked me to be on the record and feeling so honored to be a part of an album that was so special to you.

Anything you want to share about this album, the Juneteenth album? Chandler Moore: Man. You hopping on that just made it crazy.

Just having the constant support of something consistent, of my wife being consistent. I get a little teary-eyed. Just the consistent love and support, because this life can be very inconsistent, the ups, the downs.

This is home. You go ahead. And who willingly accepted that. So marriage is great. Marriage is fun. You, however have had the love of a woman for four years. Four years of closeness and sharing at the end of which she ripped your heart out, and that is why we don't do it. I don't think that was my point. Monica : Stick out your tongue. Chandler : Take off your shirt.

Ross : Stupid British snack food. Chandler : Did they teach you that in your anger management class? Ross : My dad wanted to know if you wanted to play racquetball with us. Monica : Wow. That's great. Dad must really like you, he doesn't ask just anyone to play. Ross : Yeah and he didn't really ask for you, he asked for Chancy, I assumed he meant you. Chandler : Well, did-did you correct him? Ross : No, I-I thought it would be more fun this way.

Eddie : [Chandler just asked him to move out] This is kinda out of the blue, isn't it? Chandler : No, no, no. This isn't out of the blue. This is smack dab in the middle of the blue. Joey : Hey, I got something for you. Chandler : What's this? Joey : Eight hundred and twelve bucks. Chandler : Well, I don't know what Big Leon told you but it's an even thousand if you want me for the whole night.

Chandler : Fowl? Chandler : Eww, Lambchop. How old is that sock? If I had a sock in my hand for thirty years it'd be talking too. Ross : Okay, I think it's time to change someone's nicotine patch. Chandler : [deadpan] Ooh, I'm alive with pleasure now. Chandler : Stay Good fake dog. Chandler : Goodbye, you fruit drying psychopath.

Chandler enters]. Chandler : Whoa, whoa, so I'm guessing you didn't get the part Chandler : What are you guys like a gang or something? Joey : Yeah, we are. Rachel : We're the Cobras. Ross : Oh, I gotta go, kids I got Lamaze class. Chandler : Oh! And I got Earth Science but I'll catch you in gym? Joey : How come we don't have jam at our place? Chandler : Because the kids need shoes.

Ross : Why, it's like I've been given the gift of time. Chandler : That's great. Last year I got the gift of space. We should get together and make a continuum. Joey : [to Ross] Forget about Rachel. Go to China, eat Chinese food. Chandler : Of course there they'd just call it food. Ross : Wow.

Chandler : Hey stop staring at my wife's legs. No, no, stop staring at your sister's legs. Monica : I am so jealous. Rachel : You guys are really just right there. Aren't you? Chandler : Yes Right where? Monica : The beginning, where it's all sex and talking and sex and talking Chandler : Yeah you gotta love the talking.

Monica : And the sex? Chandler : Alright we hadn't have sex yet. What's the big deal? This is special. I want our love to grow before moving to the next level. Rachel : Oh, chandler, that is so nice. Ross : That is really nice No way is that the reason. Rachel : Why? Just because you're not mature enough to understand something like that? Chandler : He's right. I'm totally lying. Monica : Then what is it? Chandler : Kathy's last boyfriend was Joey.

Ross : And you're afraid you won't be able to fill his shoes? I'm afraid I won't be able to make love as well as him. Ross : I was going for the metaphor. Chandler : Yes and I was saying the actual words.

Monica : Big deal. So Joey has had a lot of girlfriends. That doesn't mean he's great in bed. Chandler : We share a wall.

So either is great in bed, or she just liked to agree with him a lot. Monica : With you it's gonna be different. The sex is gonna be great because you guys are in love. Chandler : Yeah? Ross : Just go for it Chandler. Monica , Rachel : Yeah you should.

All right. I'll sleep with my girlfriend. But I'm just doing it for you guys. Monica : You broke a little girl's leg? Ross : I know. I feel horrible. Chandler : [reading the paper] Says here that a Muppet got whacked on Sesame Street last night. Chandler : Where exactly were you around ten-ish? Chandler : So, when's the big game gonna start? Phoebe : You don't have to do that, Ross and Joey aren't here, you can watch the parade. Phoebe : We can be guys.

Come on, let us be guys. Chandler : You don't want to be guys, you'd be all hairy and you wouldn't live as long. Ross : So, uh, what did the insurance company say?

Chandler : Oh, they said uh, "You don't have insurance here so stop calling us. Chandler : I got a job in advertising. Well, not a paying job. More of an internship. But, they hire people they like. Joey : Yeah, we got interns on "Days of Our Lives".

Chandler : Yeah, it's the same thing Chandler : [taking duck out in the hallway] Now you stay out here and you think about what you did. Ross : That's a duck. Chandler : That's a bad duck.

You're a really good kisser. Chandler : Well, I have kissed more than four women. Monica : [about the erogenous zones] Now, most guys will hit uh, and then go to 7 and set up camp. Chandler : That-that's bad? Rachel : Well if you go to Disneyland, you don't spend the whole day on the Materhorn.

Chandler : Well you might if it were anything like 7. Chandler : Now, honey, I know you don't like to relinquish control Monica : Oh! Relinquish is just a fancy word for "lose"! Chandler : [about Richard] Oh hey listen, don't be mad at him, it's our fault. I'm sorry we've been hoggin so much of his time. Joey : Yeah, he's just really great to hang around with.

Richard : Well Joey : No, I'm serious. Chandler and I were just talkin' about this. He is so much cooler than our dads. Joey : I mean, you know, our dads are okay, you know? But Richard is just- ow, ow. Joey : What are you kickin' me for, huh? I'm tryin' to talk here. Monica : So you wanna? Chandler : OK. Chandler : I can't. Monica : [Snaps] Well you're not 18 anymore, but give it a minute. Chandler : I can't because of Emma. Monica : Oh, Emma, Sweetie, I forgot you were here.

Rachel : You promised you would break up with her. Chandler : I did break up with her. She just took it really, really well. Phoebe : A plate of brownies once told me a Limerick.

Chandler : Let me ask you, Phoebe: were these "funny brownies"? Phoebe : Not particularly. Although I do think they had pot in them. Joey : Is Phoebe here with the cab yet? Chandler : Yeah, she brought the invisible cab. Jump in. Monica : Come on, I see you looking at other women's breasts all the time!

Chandler : You see that? Monica : Do you see this? Monica : Duhhhhhh? Monica : [Monica has refused to go out with Chandler] Darn it! There's no more soda. Chandler : I'll go get some. Monica : Really? Chandler : Well, I would,. Chandler : but I'm not your boyfriend! Chandler : Aaaaaand Chandler : You wanna tell secrets? In college, Ross used to wear leg warmers. Ross : All right. Chandler entered a Vanilla Ice look-a-like contest and won. Chandler : Ross came in fourth and cried.

Ross : Chandler got drunk one night and slept with the woman who cleaned our dorm. Chandler : That was you. Ross : Whatever dude. You kissed a guy. Joey : And you call yourself an accountant? Chandler : You have to stop the Q-Tip when there's resistance. Rachel : So are things between you and Joey getting any better? Chandler : It couldn't get any worse. Last night, I spent eight hours calling him, trying to get him to talk to me. Rachel : Oh, wow. Eight hours. So you could probably really use one of those plug-in telephone headsets, huh?

Ross : Should we all expect Christmas gifts that can be stolen from your office? Rachel : You shouldn't. Joey : Just because she went to Yale drama, she thinks she's like the greatest actress since, since, sliced bread!

Joey : God, I just, I hate her! I hate her! With her, "Oh, I'm so talented. Chandler : I think somebody has a crush on somebody. Joey : Hey, Chandler, can we please stay focused on my problem here? Chandler : I'm talking about you. You big, big freak. Julie : [Monica has told everyone about Chandler's third nipple] You know, Chandler, in some cultures a third nipple is considered a mark of virility.

The most desirable women dance naked around you so you can make your pick. Chandler : Ah, would any of these cultures be in the tri-state area? Julie : Sorry. Chandler : [dancing and singing] She's on the other line, gonna call me back, she's on the other line, gonna call me back. Monica : Don't you still have to pee? Chandler : That's why I'm dancing. Chandler : How do you not fall down more often?

Chandler : Where is Ross at? Hasn't he checked out yet? Monica : Are you kidding me? Rachel : Oh yeah that's right. One time Ross and I were at a hotel and we got a late check out Ross was so happy it was the best sex we ever had! Phoebe : Ohhhhhhh! Phoebe : Yeah that'll kill it. Phoebe : Quit being so "testosterony". The real San Francisco treat. Chandler : Ew, ew, ew, ew ew ew ew ew. Ugly Naked Guy got a Thighmaster. Chandler : [to a woman] Come on, I'll show you to my room Wow, that sounds weird when it's not followed by "No thanks, it's late".

Chandler : [talking to Monica about the new house] When did you start crapping money? Chandler : And by the way, Count Rushmore doesn't exist.

Joey : Oh yeah? Then who's the guy who painted all the faces on the mountain? Ross : I had a dream last night where I was playing football with my kid. Joey , Chandler : That's nice. Ross : No, no, with him. I'm on this field, and they, they hike me the baby. I know I've gotta do something 'cause the Tampa Bay defense is comin' right at me. Joey : Tampa Bay's got a terrible team. Ross : Right, but, it is just me and the baby, so I'm thinkin' they can take us.

And so I uh, I just heave it downfield. Chandler : What are you crazy? That's a baby! Joey : He should take the sack? Ross : Anyway, suddenly I'm downfield, and I realize that I'm the one who's supposed to catch him, right? Only I know there is no way I'm gonna get there in time, so I am running, and running, and that, that is when I woke up. See, I am so not ready to be a father. Chandler : Hey, you're gonna be fine. You're one of the most caring, most responsible men in North America.

You're gonna make a great dad. Joey : Yeah, Ross. You and the baby just need better blocking. Jack Geller : I remember when we first got engaged. Chandler : Oh, I don't think I ever heard that story. Monica : Oh dad, really you don't need to Jack Geller : [ignoring her] Well, I'd gotten Judy pregnant. I still don't know that happened. Judy Geller : [incredulous] You don't know how that happened? Your dog thought my diaphragm was a chew toy.

Joey : Anyway, I started working on what I'm gonna say at the ceremony, you wanna hear it? Monica , Chandler : Yeah! Joey : Now, listen, it's just the first draft so It is a love based on giving and receiving, as well as having and sharing. And through this having and giving and sharing and receiving, we too can share and love and have and receive.

Chandler : [to Monica] Shouldn't we call the spitter? Chandler : Rachel, it's the Visa card people. Rachel : Oh, okay. Will you take my place? Chandler : Yes, this is Rachel. Phoebe : You name one woman that you broke up with for a real reason.

Chandler : Maureen Rosilla. Ross : "'Cause she doesn't hate Yanni" is not a real reason. Chandler : Yeah, I know it must be important to you when you start chattering like a monkey. Chandler : You know what they say, ask your slippers a question Chandler : You took your eggs and you left. Do you really expect me never to find new eggs?

Chandler : Where's Joey? His mom's on the phone. Monica : He's in the bathroom I don't think you wanna go in there! Chandler : C'mon, we're roommates My eyes! Chandler : Am I sexy in Tulsa? Chandler : I am holding up these cushions as a symbol of my remorse! Though you may haveth anger now Chandler : [conflicted over Kathy] That's no good, I'm starting to yearn!

Chandler : Well actually, gum would be perfection. Chandler : Gum would be perfection? Where did that come from? Coulda said thanks, coulda said I'll have a stick but no, for me, gum would be perfection.

I loathe myself. Chandler : [Name the 50 States Game] If you can't do it you can't do it. That's the great thing about this game, it makes you want to kill yourself. Chandler : At least your middle name isn't Murial! Ross : Chandler M Bing? Your parents never gave you a chance, did they? Susie : You know why I like you? Chandler : Because my parents sent me to an all-boys Boarding School and now God is making up for it?

Chandler : Ok, I'm just going to go outside. Ross : Whoa, whoa, hold it. Chandler : Don't worry. I'm not going to run away again. I just want to get some fresh air. Ross : Ok. Chandler : [exits into hallway and lights a cigarette] Ahh, fresh air Ross : Hey who is this Casey? Why's he calling Rachel?

Chandler : Well I'm guessing he wants to do a little dance You know make a little love Well pretty much get down tonight