Wow. We're just blowing through nap time, aren't we? Everybody dance… NOW. Wow. We're just blowing through nap time, aren't we?

Daddy horny, Michael. Stop licking my hand, you horse's ass. Yeah, I invited her. You said you wanted to spend time some with her. You said I was being an Ann hog. If this tableau I recreate, perhaps I can re-snare my mate. You want your belt to buckle, not your chair. Are all the guys in here… you know? George Sr: No not all of them. Barry: Yeah. It's never the ones you hope. Turns out he ended up getting too friendly with the teddy bear.

I've used one adjective to describe myself. What is it? If I wanted something your thumb touched I'd eat the inside of your ear. Stop licking my hand, you horse's ass! Hair up, glasses off.

I've always been deeply passionate about nature. Perhaps you remember Neuterfest? I'll never forget your wedding. You are a worse psychiatrist than you are a son-in-law and you will never get work as an actor because you have no talent. What do you expect, Mother? I'm half machine! I'm a monster!! I don't want no part of yo tight-ass country club, ya freak bitch! Popcorn shrimp… with club sauce.

One for the ladies. She's not that Mexican, Mom. She's my Mexican. And she's Columbian or something.

I will be a bigger and hairier mole than the one on your inner left thigh! Stop it, stop it. This objectification of women has to stop. Michael: It's just Mom and whores.

You are a worse psychiatrist than you are a son-in-law and you will never get work as an actor because you have no talent. What's next, Michael? Are you going to make dancing illegal? Is this the tiny town from Footloose? And I am rock steady. No more dizzies.

I'd rather be dead in California than alive in Arizona. Don't ask "Can I"… ask "I Can!" Here he comes. Here comes John Wayne. Annhog's coming? It was for me. I was going to smoke the marijuana like a cigarette.

NO TOUCHING! George Michael, you want to put your head down there by his drainage shunt?

A night of heterosexual intercourse. Butterscotch! Want a lick? YOU'RE the Chiclet! Not me. Caw ca caw, caw ca caw, caw ca caw! Either I zip down, or he zips up, and that is a mighty long zipper on Mother's Cher jumpsuit. Butterscotch! Want a lick? It's as Ann as the nose on plain's face.