Chris (to Becker): What do you think these are for? (points to her breasts) They are for getting stuff done.
Mrs. Whitford (to Mr. Whitford): I'll invite the super, the mailman and my next door neighbor and in nine months you can figure out who the father is.
Bob: Now, I've been stood up by both sexes. I'm done with people.
Cop: I have to write you up a ticket for jaywalking.
Bob: Jaywalking? In New York? You got to be kidding me!
Becker (to Chris): A girl plummer? Hah! That's a joke, like a girl Doctor.
Mr. Whitford: You have any kids?
Becker: No, they annoy me.
Mr. Whitford: I need viagra and I need it now.
Becker: You wanna buy me a drink first.
Becker: Hey, how'd you like it if I left urine on the step of your office! Stupid dog.
Becker (to Chris): You women get out of tickets by using your breasts and the cops have to get their quota by giving tickets to men.
Jake: Why does everything suddenly have to be about you?
Becker: Suddenly? It's always been that way.
Bob: What? You want to see my walker's license? What are you going to do? Impound my shoes?