Everything they do is so dramatic and flamboyant. It just makes me want to set myself on fire. Well, if you want to play Eve, you got to get in line behind what, above five homos. The only thing I found in the fridge was a dead dove in a bag.

Please refrain from discussing or engaging in any sort of interoffice [bleep] or [bleep] or finger[bleep] or [bleep]sting or [bleep] or even [bleep]. Here he comes. Here comes John Wayne.

What's up, fizz-ellas. It just seems like there's still light coming in from under the door. I cheated and I lied and I whored around. The only thing I found in the fridge was a dead dove in a bag. Gob: You didn't eat that, did you? Turn this skiff around! I spent so much time making sweet love on my wife that it's hard to hear anything over the clatter of her breasts.

Well, obviously, I'm not a big guy. I'm not a Carl Weathers, par example. Aren't you the sweetest thing, spending time with what's left of your uncle. Well, if you want to play Eve, you got to get in line behind what, above five homos. So maybe you could start jete-ing, and stop je-terrorizing me! God knows they're squinters. She's trying to prove that she's closer to my children than I am, but the joke's on her, because she doesn't know how little I care for GOB. I'll be in the hospital bar. You know there isn't a hospital bar, Mother. Well, this is why people hate hospitals.

Yeah, well, have you seen the new Mustang? You could hump that hood. I thought the two of us could talk man-on-man.

I don't appreciate the dry British humor. It looks like you've been looking for dragons… in the future.

I know what an erection feels like, Michael. No, it's the opposite. It's like my heart is getting hard. I hear the jury's still out on science. Obviously this blue part here is the land. I run a pretty tight ship around here. With a pool table.

It seems like only yesterday you were bursting forth from your mother's fertile womb. Friday night. For there's a man inside me, and only when he's finally out, can I walk free of pain. Oh, yeah. The guy in the $4,000 suit is holding the elevator for a guy who doesn't make that in three months. COME ON! This objectification of women has to stop. It's just Mom and whores. I just don't want him to point out my cracker ass in front of Ann. Well, I hope you also carry a spare bowl of candy beans. Yes. Lindsay and I are planning a night of heterosexual intercourse.

She's not that Mexican, Mom. She's my Mexican. And she's Columbian or something. Buster's in what we like to call a light to no coma. In layman's terms, it might be considered a very heavy nap.

Shémale. Hola, is Rosa still alive? No? Well this is not my day. Don't worry, these young beauties have been nowhere near the bananas.