Chandler gets a new computer. Ross is depressed about having to chose between Julie and Rachel. Chandler suggests they make a list of pros and cons, which somehow never makes it past the cons. Ross choses Rachel, but then she finds the list and decides she doesn't want to be with Ross anymore. Monica's finds a new job creating recipes for Mockolate, a synthetic chocolate substitute.
Ross: And, uh, and then I kissed her.
Chandler: All right, check out this bad boy. Twelve megabytes of RAM, 500 megabyte hard drive.
Built-in spreadsheet capabilities and a modem that transmits at over 28,000 BPS.
Phoebe: Wow. What are you gonna use it for?
Chandler: Games and stuff.
Phoebe: So, um, this is a song about a love triangle between three people
that I made up. Um, it's called... um, "Two of Them Kissed Last Night"
[singing:] There was a girl, we'll call her Betty
And a guy, let's call him Neil
Now I can't stress this point too strongly...
This story isn't real.
Now our Neil must decide
Who will be the girl that he casts aside?
Will Betty be the one who he loves truly?
Or will it be the one who we'll call... Loolie?
He must decide, he must decide,
even though I made him up, he must decide!
Rastatter: But, we're thinking, given the right marketing, we can
make Thanksgiving the Mockolate holiday.
Rastatter: Aren't you going to swallow that?
Monica: Just waiting for it to stop bubbling.
Chandler: Oh, I know. This must be so hard. "Oh, no! Two women love me. They're both gorgeous and sexy. My wallet's too small for my fifties, and my diamond shoes are too tight!"
Phoebe: Oh, this is what evil must taste like!
Chandler: I'm telling you this thing won't print. Yes, I pressed that button like a hundred times. You know, for a hot line you're not so hot. What... what is that in the background? Are you watching Star Trek?
Rastatter: Um, listen... you didn't eat a lot of it while you were cooking, did you?
Monica: Well, uh, I ate some.
Rastatter: Oh, some, that's fine. Some is fine. Some is not a lot. So it doesn't burn when you pee, does it?
Rastatter: Hi, thanks for coming in again.
Monica: Oh, not at all. I have no morals and I need the cash.
Rastatter: It's like I'm lookin' in a mirror. Anyway, they're called "fishtachios." Now, they taste exactly like pistachios, but they're made primarily of reconstituted fish bits. Here, try one.
Monica: All right.
Rastatter: You're not allergic to anything, are you?
Monica: Cat hair.
Rastatter: Oh, sorry.