New Girl

I'm like a sexual snowflake. Each night with me is a unique experience.

You treat an outside wound with rubbing alcohol; you treat an inside wound with drinking alcohol. Science.

This place is fancy and I don’t know which fork to kill myself with.

I had figure skating lessons until I was 13, and then my mom sobered up and realized I was a boy.

— Five whiskeys, please.
— That’s too much whiskey for my frame.
— No, no, I know, it seems like a lot, but binge drinking can be a fun and safe way to engage with life.

I don’t celebrate Christmas, okay? Or as I like to call it, White Anglo Saxon Winter Privilege Night.

Nick doesn't have a life plan. He doesn't have a day plan. I once found a note that he wrote to himself that said, "Put on pants".

— I’ll take you through the whole thing. I’ll be like your guide.
-: Like Gandalf through the Middle-Earth?
— OK, first of all, let’s take the Lord of the Rings references and put them in a deep, dark cave where no one will even find them.
— Except Smeagol. He lives in a cave.

— We need to go. Walk of shame. Let's make a move.
— Why do women have to have a label for going home in the morning, when for men it's just going home?

I’m worried about Schmidt. He’s a Jew in the desert. I don’t want him to wander.

— You may not help with the pranks.
— Why not, man? I'm the best with the pranks, man. They call me Prank Sinatra!
— No, you call you Prank Sinatra!

Old people freak me out. With their hands and their legs. They’re like the people version of pleated pants.

I can't go to jail! I'm too sarcastic for the white gangs!

— Nick, put on some pants or at least some really high socks.
— Really high socks it is, then!

I once tried on my girl cousin’s wool tights and I didn’t hate how it felt!

I got your text. When you’re going through a "Taylor Swift-like range of emotions," I should come over, right?