Sharon faces an ethical dilemma with her company's latest insecticide. Berg is continuing to participate in drug trials. Pete makes a presentation of his architectural project but Berg thinks he has drunk the latest drug being trialed.

I've got a little itch, down there. Would you mind?

I thought that was our last job, Brian. So now we work for the Hulk? That's what we're doing? Why do I smell baby oil?

Height: six foot two and a half. 184 pounds. Trophies for karate and judo, holder of the Kama Sutra black belt.

Trip and Jason watch Two Guys and a Girl [and a pizza place?] Pete wants to break up with Melissa but has a lot of trouble doing it. So, she dumps him. Berg tries to reconcile them but just makes matters worse. Eventually, Pete and Melissa decide to work things

I'm Peaceful Fountains of Desire, the masseuse. I come with compliments of the manager.

The most important thing in life will always be the people in this room. Right here, right now. Salute, mi familia.

How did you get in here? I'm going to call Security... and congratulate them.

Your new BMW 750. All the usual refinements. Machine guns. Rockets. The GPS tracking system.

What, no small-talk? No chit-chat? That's the trouble with the world today. No one takes the time to do a really sinister interrogation anymore. It's a lost art.

Some big drug dealer just escaped. Now, will that be smoking or non-smoking, mister...?

Ring Dings and milk? Oh sure. Then well get some balloons and go to the puppet show. What are you, two years old?

All you people are so scared of me. Most days I'd take that as a compliment. But it ain't me you gotta worry about now.

I kick ass for the Lord!

Sorry, old man, section 26, paragraph 5. Need-to-know. Sure you understand.

The bubbles tickle my... Tchaikovsky!

You, you're okay. This one: real fuckin' ugly.

I'm a boy who appreciates a good body, regardless of the make.

You're marvelously well equipped.

First learn stand, then learn fly. Nature rule, Daniel-san, not mine.

"I'd take pleasure in guttin' you, boy."

That's my little octopussy.

Fifty percent of something is better than a hundred percent of nothing.

See ya tomorrow night, Eleanor, with your fine ass.