Gina: Yikes, Amy. What's wrong with you?
Amy: I blew a huge opportunity to work a case with Holt's mom.
Gina: Oh, yeah, I didn't need an answer. "What's wrong" is a rhetorical question.

Gina: It's Gina's phone. Leave me a voice-mail. I won't check it 'cause it's not 1993.

Gina: Is she crying?
Jake: A little.
Gina: You should be wailing you stone-cold bitch. Now call my other grandma.

Gina: All men are at least 30% attracted to me. My mother cried the day I was born, because she knew she would never be better than me. At any given moment, I'm thinking about one thing: Richard Dreyfuss hunkered over eating dog food. I feel like I'm the Paris of people.

Captain Holt: You're annoying my mother.
Jake: Are you blind? We're vibing like crazy.
Captain Holt: I assure you, my mother's not a vibrator.
Jake: Definitely not what that's short for.

Jake: The alarm company said the break-in happened around 7:30. Most people are home at that time. Is there anyone who knew you'd be out?
Laverne Holt: The people who were with me at wine club. Oh my, I just remembered, Carol Spitzheim's house was broken into several months ago, also during wine club.
Captain Holt: Interesting. The odds of that happening coincidentally are vanishingly small.
Laverne Holt: I would say infinitesimally.
Jake: Yes, and I would say teenily-weenily. We all know words.

Captain Holt: Enough! He robbed my mother.
Jake: No, he didn't. He's her lover. He's your mother's lover. He's lovering your mother.