D: You know they have trivia games on the Internet now? You can challenge against drunks from all around the world.

D: I can't just sit around here while...
C: While I steal into the night with my incredibly more wealthy than you prince?

C: If I'm not here in the morning, you can just clear out my desk. I'll be moving on up.

D: She's not going to fall for my ample but unpretentious charms, is she?
A: Not unless "unpretentious" means you don't like to brag about your family's old money.
D: The only money in my family is underneath the couch cushions.

D: Everybody's got dinner plans but us.

A: This isn't a spelling bee. Nobody expects you to play fair.

Pierce: I'm sorry you're not feeling well. I was hoping we could make a night of it.
C: Me, too. I really wanted to hear the end of the story about the pigs and beans.

C: You were so . . . brave.
D: You think you could say that again without so much shock in your voice? You're steppin' on my moment of manliness here.

C: I'm just. . .
D: Surprised?
C: Grateful.

C: So here I am at Le Petit Renard with Mr. Armani, who could keep me in blue boxes for the rest of my life . . .
A: Blue boxes?
C: Tiffany's! God!

C: All I can think of is if this wimp saw a monster, he'd probably throw a shoe at it and run like a weasel. Turns out the shoe part was giving him too much credit.

C: All of a sudden rich and handsome isn't enough for me. Now I expect a guy to be all brave and interesting. And it's your fault! Both of you!

C: As if I wasn't confused enough, then Doyle comes along and rescues me like some . . . badly dressed super hero.

C: You know, the first thing he asked? "Are you okay?" I mean, that's like . . . substance, right?
A: There's definitely more to Doyle than meets the eye.
C: So I've got to kill myself. I swore when I went down this road with Xander Harris, I'd rather be dead than date a fixer-upper again.

C: Maybe Doyle does have hidden depths. I mean, really *really* hidden. But depths. And I'm gonna have to buy him a mochaccino for saving my life.

D: I'm the one you followed. It's me you want. < Phfft > Ha! < Phfft > Fangs for the memories Vamp man.

D: Hey! I was just . . . that wasn't . . .
C: An incredible spaz attack?

C: I was thinking that maybe I haven't been entirely fair to you. Maybe you don't actually have *zero* potential.
D: Wow, Cordelia. Thanks.

C: Who's Francis?
D: That would be me. Alan Francis Doyle. Cordelia, this is Harriet. My wife.

C: You two are really married?
H: Were and still, according to the paperwork.
C: So it was a green card thing?
H: Nope. It was a madly in love, couldn't live without each other kind of thing.

R: You left out the part about him being such a handsome fellow.
A: I'm not . . .
R: Oh, you are. Really.
A: I'm not Doyle. He is.
R: Oh, that's more like it.

R: I'm not quite myself what with the wedding only a few days off now.
D: There's a wedding?
R: I wasn't supposed to say that yet, was I?

H: I'm definitely the yin to his yang, but it works. He's got a good heart, Francis, just like you.
D: Yeah, maybe. But the container -- can I get a side of bland to go with that bland?

D: When things go wrong and you're young like that, you don't just say "Hey, thanks for the blender. I wish you well." You fight. You tear each other apart until one of you can't take it.

D: He seems like a nice . . . friendly . . . fellow, don't you think?
A: Definitely friendly. Only, uh, he seemed a bit . . . .
D: Exactly! I knew he was no good!

D: I can't go trailing after her intended myself. It just wouldn't look right. Angel, you think you would. . . .
A: Yeah. Just don't tell Cordelia. She'll want to charge you.

H: Stop!
A: He's a demon!
H: Well, yeah!

H: I even tried to get him to go out. Meet other demons. At least go to one mixer, you know?

D: He's a demon? And she's all signed on to be Mrs. Demon? Tell me again how ugly he is.

D: I knew that nice guy thing was just an act. He's working a spell on her. She's gonna sprout hubcaps from her head or something.

A: They gave up those orthodox teachings, language, around the turn of the century. Now they own a number of restaurants with pretty expensive windows.
D: I fully intend to chip in for that.

H: Richard wanted some time alone with Doyle to invite him to his bachelor party.
C: Bachelor party? Why? Was he afraid he ordered too much beer?

R: Do we really have to have the buffalo wings? I could have the guys in the kitchen whip up a foie gras.
B1: It's a bachelor party, Rich. You're supposed to eat bad and drink beer. It's a tradition.
Mom: Don't forget the girl who does the strip tease. < look > What? You think I don't know? Let's make sure all she does is tease.

R: Well, I just hope that sort of hijinks doesn't create a bad impression with Doyle.
Aunt: Who's Doyle?
B1: Harry's first husband. Richard invited him.
R: He's really very sweet. I think you'll all enjoy him.

Uncle John: Let's see. First we greet the man of the hour. Then we drink. Bring out the food. Then drink. Then comes the stripper. Darts. And then we have the ritual eating of the first husband's brains. Then charades.
B2: Wait. What was that? Charades?

R: Angel! Hey, this is a surprise.
A: Yeah, I thought I'd use the door this time.

R: Everyone, this night is for Doyle as much as it is for me. More even. He's the real bachelor here.
D: Yeah, thanks for not rubbing that in right away.

H: It was a nightmare. Well, maybe not at first. Initially, I really liked the way he took charge.
C: Doyle? Took charge?

H: Sometimes I felt like I was one of his students.
C: That's funny. For a moment, I thought you said one of Doyle's students.br> H: It wasn't fun being treated like a third grader, believe me.
C: Grade third taught Doyle?! < beat > Doyle taught third grade?!
H: Yeah.
C: Are you sure he wasn't just held back and used that as a cover story?

H: Francis got his teaching credentials before we even met at the Food Bank.
C: Okay, soup kitchen. Now that sounds more like the Doyle I've grown to know and revile. < look > You're about to tell me he ran it, aren't you?
H: He was just a volunteer. That's when he got the idea for the whole We Are the World thing. I'm kidding about that part.

Aunt: Come on girls. It's pornographic Pictionary time!
H: Their ways are not our ways.

A: Where are you?
C: In the netherworld known as the 818 area code.

R: I hope Harriet doesn't hear about that.
D: Not from me she won't.
R: Yeah, I know. You're a good half man.

D: I guess what I'm saying is. . . I give you my blessing. God bless you. So long as we skip the hug.

D: Guys, this is great, but I can't reach the pretzels.

H: Richard said having the former husband present was some sort of tradition. I was just wondering . . . .
Aunt: Well, they're certainly not going to eat your ex-husband's brains . . . . for instance.

Uncle: Nick, what's this?
B1: You said to get a utensil
U: This is a shrimp fork. He's gonna eat the guy's brains with a shrimp fork?
B1: Well, pardon me if our ancient ancestors didn't leave behind any former husband brain eating forks.
U: Get a soup spoon, you moron.

D: Look, Richard, as much as I like your family -- and they're great, honest -- I'd really prefer if they didn't cannibalize me.
R: Oh, no. You misunderstand.
D: I do?
R: It'll just be me.
D: Why don't I just give you that hug, and we'll call it even?

D: Yeah, I take it back!
R: Oh. Well. I see. Now I'm not so sure I even want to eat your brains.
U: Don't be petulant, Richard. You'll eat his brains. You can't take back a blessing. Now apologize to your friend.
R: He's right. That was rude. I'd be honored to eat your brains.

A: Party's over.
B1: You brought a vampire to my brother's bachelor party?!

D: Harry says I should mix with other demons. I'll mix! ::SMASH::

H: Stop it right this instant!
R: Hun bun? This is for guys only.

H: I know what you're up to Richard Howard Straley.
R: The stripper wasn't my idea, pook. I swear.
H: Not the stripper, Richard! < pause > There was a stripper?

C: Well you shouldn't be trying to eat my friend's brains, you horrible ugly demon people!

H: Were you or were you not intending to eat my ex-husband's brains?
R: In a way . . . .
H: And when were you planning on telling me?
R: I thought maybe I wouldn't have to.
H: You were going to start our life out together with deceit?
D: Sort of missing the point, isn't she?

H: Oh please, Uncle John. When's the last time you pried yourself away from ESPN to spill the blood of a she-goat?

H: One word, Francis. Just one word and I'll eat your brains.
B2: You don't need her anyway.
B1: Yeah, who wants a wife whose knees only bend one way?

C: Well, someone has to go out there and cheer him up.
A: < starts up >
C: Oh please. Someone with a heart beat.

C: Hi Doyle. Are you gonna become loser pining guy, like, full time? 'Cuz we already have one of those around the office.
A: Hey!
D: Hey!
C: He can get away with it. He's tall, and look at the way clothes hang on him. But you . . .
A: Okay. I think you've cheered us up enough.

C: You can't live in the past. You gotta move on. Let it go. Forget it. Tomorrow's another day. Did I mention letting it go?
D: Twice.

C: You'll get through this Doyle. Nice guys don't always finish last.
D: You think I'm a nice guy?
C: I think it; I say it. It's my way.

C: Not my fault!
A: He's having a vision.
C: At this hour?