Howard: Hey. How was dinner?
Leonard: Swell. I need a drink. Do we have any alcohol?
Sheldon: No. But we have potatoes, I could make you vodka. It'll take two weeks.

Penny: What was all that about me trading sexual favors for material gain?
Sheldon: It was a compliment. I believe in giving credit where credit is due.

Leonard: I am not going to have sex with her.
Sheldon: Maybe this will overcome your reluctance. I went on the Internet and found a photograph of a 25-year-old Mrs. Latham to get your libido humming. Check out those saddle shoes. Rar!

Sheldon: Ah, much better.
Leonard: You must be burning up.
Sheldon: A little. But not more than your urethras will be after whatever's in those pants swims up them.

Sheldon: Well, I cut quite the dashing, yet hygienic figure, don't I? I look like the Flash about to get married.

Sheldon: Oh! A tissue! A tissue! Oh, good Lord!
Assistant: Uh, where's he going?
Leonard: He keeps emergency Purell in the car.
Sheldon: Keys! Keys! Keys!

Amy: With our friends moving forward in their relationships, I've decided that we should make progress in ours as well.
Sheldon: Oh, dear Lord. Two years ago, we didn't even know each other, and now I'm in your apartment after dark. How much faster can this thing go?

Amy: Human beings form emotional attachments as they grow up. In your case, to your mother, superheroes, et cetera. I'm going to attempt an experiment that will get you to transfer those feelings to me.
Sheldon: Well, it seems what's on the menu tonight is malarkey with a big side of poppycock.

Amy: We'll see. Let's start with a little romantic dinner music, shall we?
Sheldon: Super Mario Bros. theme?
Amy: Yes.
Sheldon: I see what you're doing. You're attempting to build on the work of Ebbinghaus by triggering an involuntary memory of me playing that game, admittedly the happiest 600 hours of my childhood, but it won't work.

Amy: Oh, I know. I think it will go nicely with what I have prepared for dinner.
Sheldon: Spaghetti with little pieces of hot dog cut up in it!
Amy: Just like your mommy used to make.
Sheldon: Oh yummy, yummy! We should do this more often. Uh-oh.

Leonard: Hey, Stuart, what's going on?
Stuart: Well, you might want to mark your Google calendars. Stan Lee is coming to do a signing on Thursday.
Sheldon: Did he finally write a sequel to his autobiography? I'm sure ages 79 through 87 were just action-packed.

Stuart: No, just a regular comic signing. My uncle is his dermatologist and Stan's doing him a favor.
Sheldon: Oh, I don't want to know that! How can I possibly discuss with Stan Lee the scientific foundations for interstellar flight on a silver surfboard when part of my brain will be scanning his face for signs of contagious skin disease?
Leonard: Stan Lee does not have a contagious skin disease.
Sheldon: Well, look who thinks he's Stuart's uncle now.

Sheldon: There's Neosporin and Band-Aids in my top desk drawer.
Howard: Why don't you keep that stuff in the bathroom?
Leonard: He does. And in the kitchen. And in the car. And in his pocket.
Sheldon: Yeah, but the ones in my pocket are mine.

Howard: You've also got something from the Pasadena Municipal Court.
Sheldon: Undoubtedly yet another snide response to my repeated letters complaining that the flags in front of the courthouse are flying in the wrong order. From left to right, it's supposed to be federal, state, and then city of Pasadena.
Penny: I'm sorry. You sent more than one letter about that?
Sheldon: It bothers me.

Sheldon: All right, then, my so-called friends have forsaken me. So, I guess it'll just be me and my eyewitness.
Penny: Oh, balls.
Sheldon: Please try to wear something appropriate. It won't help my case if the judge is busy trying to read the word Juicy scrawled across your buttocks.