I thought the two of us could talk man-on-man. God knows they're squinters.

The Army had half a day. What's gotten into you? Have you been eating cheese? Hahahahah! Even though so many people in this office are begging for it. If this tableau I recreate, perhaps I can re-snare my mate. Friday night. If I wanted something your thumb touched, I'd eat the inside of your ear.

Hair up, glasses off. Each year, Oscar attempts the four hundred mile walk from Newport Beach to Berkeley, California. In the twelve years that he's attempted this, he's never made it farther than UC Irvine. Dad asked me to do this on the day he pleads not guilty, as a spectacular protest. A…. ? Smack of ham. What is she doing at a beauty pageant? Is she running the lights or something? Mission Accomplished. I've always been deeply passionate about nature. Perhaps you remember Neuterfest? I'll never forget your wedding.

Teamocil. I shall hide behind the couch. (Guy's a pro.)

I'm not a prostitute. Then I shall let you live! Caw ca caw, caw ca caw, caw ca caw, caw ca caw.

Yeah, I invited her. You said you wanted to spend time some with her. You said I was being an Ann hog. Hey, maybe you could pop a tent outside with your cousin Maeby… it'd be a good chance to rub off on her. What's next, Michael? Are you going to make dancing illegal? Is this the tiny town from Footloose? Happy Franklin Friday. I am getting rid of this thing. It has caused me nothing but pride and self-respect. Stack the chafing dishes outside by the mailbox. I'm on the job.

Probably out there without a flipper, swimming around in a circle, freaking out his whole family. Pound is tic-tac-toe, right?

Great, now I'm gonna smell to high heaven like a tuna melt! I could use a leather jacket for when I'm on my hog and have to go into a controlled slide. Happy.

Steve Holt? The moron jock? Are all the guys in here… you know? George Sr: No not all of them. Barry: Yeah. It's never the ones you hope. ¡Soy loco por los Cornballs! I will be a bigger and hairier mole than the one on your inner left thigh! Shémale. We need a name. Maybe "Operation Hot Mother." No, let's try to top that. (They never did.) Look at us, crying like a bunch of girls on the last day of camp.

Someone order 140 pounds of upper body strength? Buster's in what we like to call a light to no coma. In laymans terms, it might be considered a very heavy nap. Buster, what are you doing with mother's rape horn? Don't worry, these young beauties have been nowhere near the bananas. Buster, you remember when we were kissing last night? Buster: It was a wild, wild ride. No, it's the opposite. It's like my heart is getting hard. Dad would stage elaborate situations using a one-armed man to teach us lessons.