The Janitor (Glenn Matthews)

— There are those who say I look like a young Kenny Loggins.
— Who?
— Me.

— Women are like crows. They like shiny things. Classy stuff they can wear in their ears, around their necks, through their nipples.
— Crows have nipples?

Life is more interesting when you look at the back of things.

Elliot Reid: — Okay, Janitor, Carla's starting to push. Tell Turk.
Janitor: — Got it. Your baby has a tail.
Turk: — I told her to stay away from the microwave.

— Ah, new janitor uniforms, top priority. Right up there with silk jamies for the patients and a cat door for the I. C. U.
— I made some sketches.
— This one has a cape!
— Well, it gives me the option of fighting crime. Yeah, after work, of course. Now, this one... has sort of a medieval thing going.
— That's you on a horse?
— This is a steed, sir. That's for cleanup in outer space. This one is...outer space...evening wear. This one's just a kangaroo. Sometimes I draw kangaroos.

Gentlemen... I don't want to appear selfish, but stop what you're doing and focus on me!

— We're going to have to let you go, Marv. But, stiff upper lip.
— I'm sorry, Dr. Itor.
— Call me Jan.

Yes, it's mopping time, my friend, and as you know, I always like to start in the exact spot you're standing.

— Look, Ted. You're obviously upset about the ukulele girl. So, we've called a truce to help you out.
— I'm not upset.
— Ted, we found you in a park, throwing rocks at old couples.
— Why should they be happy?

— What's up?
— Nothing. What is up with you, man?
— I always get this way in the fall. Summer's gone, the days are shorter. It just makes me feel so... What's the word?
— Sad?
— Yes, that's it. I'm a janitor, so I couldn't think of the word «sad». I was going to say «it makes me feel so mop».

I will tell you something that my grandmother told me when I was a kid even though at the time I though she was my mother. She said: «Time spent wishing — is time wasted». Now, she died shortly after that, and my sister — who actually was my mother — she never got over it. Neither did my brother-dad.

I've predicted a couple things: The kitchen fire of '97, the kitchen fire of '98, the arson conviction of Luis the cook, and the termination of the hospital's "Convicts-to-Cooks" program.

— Well well... Look who has come crawling back, through the desert of shame, to the oasis of hope. Begging for just one sip, of cool Janitor forgiveness. Well... the answer's no.
— Please, Janitor!
— All right, I'm in. Dog gone it, I cannot resist that adorable mug of yours. I'd have to throw a cup of acid on it, to keep it from having power over me.

— Look, you and I are alike in a lot of ways.
— We both harbor an internal struggle between the desire to do good and the urge to become a master criminal.
— We don't.
— We do.

— Okay, people, time to save the planet! But where to begin?
— My first step was going with all hemp underwear. It's awesome! Except when the hemp oil sips into your bloodstream, then it's awesomer!