My Day At The Races

	Carla: This place is tiny! And I'm sick of seeing your man-panties hangin' all over the bathroom. J.D.: They're called boxers, Carla. Carla: They're satin, J.D.? J.D.: With a breathable cotton crotch panel! J.D.'s Thoughts: King me!
	Elliot: J.D. and I keep it superficial. J.D.: Love the superficial. Dynamite teeth today! Elliot: Oh, thanks, buddy! J.D.: Sparkly! Elliot: Yeah!
	Carla: Fine, you can't live with Elliot! But you're not living with us, so get your crap out by Friday. J.D.: Friday? Carla: Friday. J.D.: Friday's my birthday! I've already e-vited everyone to a party at our place. Carla: Whose place? J.D.: Your place. Look, I can't just un-e-vite everyone -- I've already got two e-yeses and twenty-four e-maybes. That's a lot of e-sponses. Carla: Bambi, I'm gonna put my e-foot up your ass. J.D.: It's a Mexican-themed fiesta...on the first anniversary of my 29th birthday. That means I'm turning thirty! ¿Donde? 56 Walnut Drive. ¿Cuando? Thank you for asking -- ocho-thirty until upside-down question mark. Sombreros at the door. Turk: I'll be there. J.D.: Gracias, amigo. I borrowed one of your dictionaries!
	Dr. Cox: Now, you go tell your patient to let you do what you do best: Knock her out, and then start digging around inside of her like a blind man looking for a nickel. Carla: I think you should do it. Dr. Cox: Knock her out and dig. Carla: Do it. Dr. Cox: Dig. Carla: Do it. Dr. Cox: Dig. Carla: Do it. Dr. Cox: Dig. Turk: Okay... I'm gonna go with Dr. Cox on this one. Dr. Cox: That's a rookie move, and you hate to see it. You always side with the wife -- even if she's got a full-blown case of the crazies.
	Carla: What if we have a son and he wants to take dance class, even though all his friends are playing football? Turk: He can dance if he wants to... He can leave his friends behind... "'Cause his friends don't dance, and if they don't dance, then they're no friends of mine!" "S-s-s-s...A-a-a-a...F-f-f-f...E-e-e-e...."
	Elliot: What's your wildest fantasy? Jake: Yeah...it's not happening. Elliot: Come on! Sometimes in bed, I feel like I'm the only one screamin'! Jake: Elliot, you're quiet as a mouse -- all the screaming is in your head. Elliot: Yeah, but in there, it's crazy
	Jake: Why don't you tell me your--your wildest fantasy. Elliot: Okay, fine. You're a Mexican apple thief, I run the cider house; I catch you hiding behind the stonemill, you chase me into the tasting room -- oh, if there's a crow in there, fine, if not...I can live with it. Anyway, we're all alone, you don't speak a word of English, but you teach me more about hard cider than I ever learned from my fermenting exams. And our passion is so loud that they can hear it all the way in the distillery! Oh...heh. God, I can be such an apple slut! Heh. Jake: ...'Kay...
	J.D.: Will you tell me what Jake's fantasy was? Elliot: Nope. J.D.: Did it involve chains? Elliot: No. J.D.: Whips? Elliot: Mm-mm. J.D.: Candle wax? Elliot: No. J.D.: Role-playing? Elliot: No. J.D.: Lasers? Elliot: Mm-mm. J.D.: Hamsters? Elliot: Negative. J.D.: Was he a Mexican apple thief? Elliot: If only....