Chandler gets offered a promotion at work but turns it down because he doesn't like his career; his boss, however, keeps offering more money until Chandler accepts; he spends the day showing off his new office to Phoebe and his night working late. A client of Phoebe's needs a new head-chef, so Monica auditions for him; unfortunately, he's stoned and the evening is a disaster. Ross goes out with Celia, a woman from the museum, who wants him to talk dirty; it's a skill he hasn't quite mastered... at first.
Chandler:You know, you have goals. You have dreams. I don't have a dream.
Ross: Ah, the lesser-known "I don't have a dream" speech.
Rachel: The meeting with the guy went great?
Monica: So great! He showed me where the restaurant's going to be. It's this cute little place on 10th Street. It's not too big, it's not too small. It's just right.
Chandler: Was it formerly owned by a blonde woman and some bears?
Ross: Hey guys, does anybody know a good date place in the neighborhood?
Joey: Uh, how about Tony's? If you can finish a 32-ounce steak, it's free.
Ross: Okay. Hey, does anybody know a good place if you're not dating a puma?
Rachel: So what are you guys gonna do?
Ross: Oh, I just thought we'd go out to dinner, and then maybe bring her back to my place and I'd introduce her to my monkey.
Chandler: And he's not speaking metaphorically.
Monica: Hey, maybe this'll cheer you up.
Chandler: Oh, you know, um, I had a grape about five hours ago, so I'd better split this with you.
Monica: It's supposed to be that small. It's a pre-appetizer. The French call it an amouz-bouche.
Chandler: Well, it is amouzing...
Monica: But you see, it's just... this night has to go just perfect, you know? And, well, Wendy's more of a... professional waitress.
Rachel: Oh! I see. Yes, and I've sort of been maintaining my amateur status so that I can waitress in the Olympics.
Phoebe: In the cab on the way over, Steve blazed up a doobie.
Phoebe: Smoked a joint. You know, lit a bone. Weed. Hemp. Ganja.
Rachel: Okay, okay. I'm with you, Cheech.
Steve: Well, smack my ass and call me Judy! These are fantastic!
Monica: Oh, gosh, I'm so glad you liked them!
Steve: Like 'em? I could eat a hundred of them!
Monica: Oh, well, um, that's all there is of these. But in about eight and a half minutes, we'll be serving some delicious onion tartlets.
Steve: Tartlets? Tartlets? Tartlets? The word has lost all meaning.
Steve: Oh! Oh! Bears overboard! They're... they're drowning! Hey fellows! Grab on a Sugar-O! Save yourselves! Help! Help! I'm drowning! Help! Help!
Ross: I was the James Michener of dirty talk. It was the most elaborate filth you have ever heard. I mean, there were different characters, plot
lines, themes, a motif... at one point there were villagers.
Joey: Whoa! And the... uh-huh?
Ross: Well, you know, by the time we'd finished with all the dirty talk, it was kinda late, and we were both kind of exhausted, so...
Joey: ...you cuddled.
Ross: Yeah, which was nice.