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House: You talked to Wilson.
Taub: He has very girly handwriting, by the way.
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House: If I wanted gifts, I would just look deep into my patients' eyes and act like you. "Oh, I'm so sorry you're dying, Mrs. Moron. Of course I'll sleep with you. What I lack in skill, I can make up for in…"
Dr. Wilson: You'd just wind up insulting her. Perhaps calling her "Mrs. Moron."
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Whitney: We do other stuff in bed. Couldn't some of his sperm have made it up there somehow?
House: More likely, it came from the guy whose penis made it up there somehow, but… sure, anything's possible.
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Anna: Jerk.
Dr. Cuddy: Uh, what was that all about?
House: Jamaican chicken recipes.
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Dr. Cuddy: You faked a scientific miracle just to win a bet with Wilson?
House: Mmm, more an argument. I realize it would have been simpler to just fake the paternity test, but hey--Christmas spirit and all that.
Dr. Cuddy: I think you're confusing nice and evil again.
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House: Why have Foreman's breasts suddenly started to droop?
Thirteen: Large breasts are a classic symptom of you letting Foreman take vacation days so he can finish his F.D.A. reports before the end of the year.
House: When are you taking vacation?
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House: I've noticed you a lot recently. It's almost as if you have a sexual interest in someone here. Like, say… Taub?
Dr. Cuddy: Well, Taub might think I like him if I stayed, which is why I'm gonna do this. (turns and walks away)
Taub: Somehow, I don't think that was really about me.
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Dr. Wilson: Of all the ways to mess with people, why give yourself an imaginary present?
House: Have you checked the prices for fireman strippers recently?
Dr. Wilson: Yes.
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Dr. Kutner: Uh, you don't have clinic duty today.
House: Who says it's a duty? (walks into examination room) Hi. I'm Greg.
Whitney: Hi. I'm Whitney.
House: Hi, Whitney. How can I help you?
Whitney: I have a terrible headache.
House: Oh, sorry to hear that. I'll get you fixed up. Is there anything else you need? Bottle of water? Coffee? Mint tea?
Whitney: No, but that's so nice. Usually the clinic doctors are kind of rushed.
House: If you can't be nice, why be a doctor?
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House: That's Beccaria's sign. That'll be gone by your third trimester.
Whitney: Oh, I'm not in school.
House: Neither is your fetus.
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House: You didn't know you were pregnant?
Whitney: How do… you know that just from the headache?
House: How do I know? I missed my period, I got fat, threw up. Oh, no, wait, that's how you know.
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Whitney: Yeah, I'm a virgin. So is my fiancé.
House: I believe him.
Whitney: Aren't there other ways I could get pregnant, like… sitting on a toilet seat?
House: Absolutely. There would need to be a guy sitting between you and the toilet seat, but yes, absolutely. I was doing so well.
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House: Parthenogenesis. A baby without a daddy. In humans, it's only ever been theorized, but it was never proved. Until now. (he holds up DNA printouts) Mommy. Baby. Your daughter has only maternal DNA. I personally checked this five times. In seven months, you will have… a virgin birth. Merry Christmas.