Living Single Season 1 Episode 20

Max: She bought that? She is so easy.
Kyle: I know! Damn.

Kyle: I got two words for you: don't sleep.
Max: And I got two words for you.

Synclaire: Am I on the radio?
Khadijah: That sounded like Synclaire.
DJ: Where are you calling from?
Synclaire: My bedroom.
Khadijah, Kyle, Regine and Max: That's her.

Kyle: Synclaire, baby. This is your chance to give me the vacation I've always dreamed about. A week of blissful peace and quiet. Please take her. (Points at Max)

Regine: We're up against a first cousin and a boyfriend. We ain't going.
Max: Now even the leprechaun is making sense. Must be the heat.

Regine: I am about to do something incredibly generous.
Khadijah: Here we go. Another 1% discount at the boutique.

Khadijah (to Regine): You're giving up something for someone else?
Overton: Yeah. I'm a little dubious myself.

Kyle: Max, why do we keep going at each other like this?
Max: It's some sort of twisted compulsion. You know, you're like a carton of month-old milk. You know it's bad, but you just have to smell it.
Kyle: I know what you mean. You're like a wart.
Max: How so?
Kyle: You're ugly.
Max: You know, your wit is devastating.
Kyle: You know what's really going on here. Is it possible that perhaps underneath all the layers of contempt and animosity and bitterness that we feel for each other that there lies some small bit of respect? Perhaps even--dare I say it--some affection? (Max seems to ponder this) Gotcha!

Overton: Let me leave you with this. There once was a young boy from Cleveland who never traveled beyond the corner store. But every night, he read books about faraway places and vowed that he, one day, would see the world.
Synclaire: And that young boy was you.
Overton: No. But I'd really like to go.

Kyle: I love the way Hitchcock builds suspense. You never see it coming. (Stares at Max) Never.

Synclaire (to Overton and Khadijah): Stop looking at me like I'm a pork chop.

Regine: How is anybody gonna enjoy himself if it's too hot for me to wear my new catsuit?

Regine: It's 105 degrees in here. One of my wigs melted.