Overton Wakefield Jones
Synclaire (James) Jones
Ira Lee "Tripp" Williams III (season 5)
Maxine Felice Shaw (a.k.a. "The Maverick")
Max: Tell me something that a man wants to see more than a naked woman.
Regine: A naked woman with Super Bowl tickets.
Max: I have the feeling that mocking you won't work, so I have absolutely no idea what to say. But I wanted to be with you on your birthday.
Kyle: Thanks, Max.
Max: Now what the hell's wrong with you?!
Overton: Personally, I'm looking forward to turning thirty.
Regine: Why is that, Obie?
Overton: Cause I'm an optimist. I look forward to damn near anything.
Kyle: Maxine, I'm older than almost everybody on the Orlando Magic. I am older than most cops. Hell, I'm older than Boyz II Men. Does it ever bother you that you're going out with an older man?
Max: Not at all. I've always wanted a father figure.
Max: Is all this funk about you turning thirty tomorrow?
Kyle: I have no problem with that.
Max: Well, then why do you keep saying you're turning twenty-nine and 365 days?
Kyle: I work with numbers.
Max: Well, then you've known for some time that thirty is the number right after twenty-nine.
Kyle: So what are you doing tomorrow?
Max: Continuing to enjoy my twenties.
Kyle: Well, I don't want a party.
Max: What kind of party don't you want?
Kyle: Something opulent, yet refined. Something dignified, yet jubilant.
Max: Sort of like the election of a Pope.
Kyle: Oh wow, Max. Look at you. Up at the crack of noon.
Overton: You just say the word and I'll whip up one of my fantastic bowling birthday parties.
Max: He doesn't want one of those.
Overton: How do you know?
Max: He told me.
(Synclaire races over to hug and console Overton)
Max: He wants me to put it together for him.
Overton: Well, you are his girl.
Max: He's poisoned your mind, too.
Max: You have sex with a man... (Regine throws down napkin) Decide to see him exclusively, let him set up a water pik at your apartment, and all of a sudden he thinks it's a relationship.
Overton: What is it, my beautiful botanist?
Synclaire: My daisies. They've gone to the big macrame plant holder in the sky.
Overton: Sorry to hear that.
Regine: Me too. I was kind of hoping there'd be no macrame in heaven.
Max: If this party doesn't make him happy, it will at least work his nerves. Either way, my job is done.
Synclaire: Why don't we throw a party for Kyle like when we were kids? You know, with balloons, and pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, and Chutes and Ladders, and Candyland...
Max: I should have followed my heart and gotten him a stripper.
Overton: Don't be so hard on yourself, Max. If Twister crippled him, a stripper would've killed him.
Max: No sign of Kyle upstairs. You think he could be at my apartment?
Regine: Only if he's torching it.
Khadijah (to Synclaire): If you weren't stuffing plant food down their roots, you were singing to them, or trying to rap. The things committed planticide to get away from you.
Regine: So cheer up, honey. Don't think of yourself as the Charles Manson of the plant world. More like the Dr. Kevorkian.
(Old Man leaves in pink shawl)
Max: Just promise me that when you get to be his age, you won't go out in that outfit...without a good set of pearls and some pumps.
Max: Alright, so maybe you haven't reached every goal that you set for yourself by thirty. I'm sorry about that. But, as for your personal life, you know, you couldn't be doing better. You know? If you were the immature guy, the Kyle Barker that I first met, who couldn't handle dating a woman with her own mind, you wouldn't be with me. So, ta-da! Happy birthday. Cheer the hell up.
Kyle: Come here. That was so sweet. (Kisses her) And so cheap! Whoo, that was cheap!
Max: That's me!
Kyle: Sweet and cheap, huh?
Kyle: My goal was to be vice president of the brokerage firm by the time I was thirty.
Old Man: I was vice president of my ad agency at twenty-eight.
Max: I was up for partner at twenty-six, all right? (to Kyle) Oh, sorry. I'm competitive. Competitive! Competitive.
Khadijah: I know why I'm looking forward to turning thirty: twenty-year-old men looking for Mrs. Robinson.
Overton: Twenty minutes is Shorty's usual sulking time. After that, he starts to worry that people might have stopped talking about him.
Max: There's nothing exciting about birthdays anymore. When you're a kid, you get to look forward to cake and musical chairs. When you're eighteen, you get to vote. When you're twenty-one, you get to drink. After that, just pick up a box of laxatives, get your digits at the door and stop trippin'.
Khadijah to Synclaire's plant: Hi, I'm Khadijah. I'll be taking care of you after they cart her off to Bellevue. Puts ear close to plant. What's that? What you worried about? I'm the one that's related to her.
(Regine sitting on couch, waving duster in air)
Khadijah: What are you doing?
Regine: I'm catching the dust before it lands on anything.
Khadijah: Why do you even bother to fake it?
Regine: Because it annoys you.
After Kyle opens all of the jars in the tag scene, Overton brings him one last one. He opens it and says, "Ain't nothing in here but a little woman on a windmill." This is a reference to the logo for Sister Lee Productions (which immediately follows his comment).
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