It's Sunday, but screw it — juice box time. 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. Daddy horny, Michael. I run a pretty tight ship around here. With a pool table. Daddy horny, Michael. Whenever she'd change clothes, she'd make me wait on the balcony until zip-up, and yet anything goes at bath time. We need a name. Maybe "Operation Hot Mother." No, let's try to top that. (They never did.) And here you are coming out of your mother's third base!

Yeah, like I'm going to take a whiz through this $5,000 suit. COME ON. 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]. There's unlimited juice? This party is gonna be off the hook. Fried cheese… with club sauce. Popcorn shrimp… with club sauce. Chicken fingers… with spicy club sauce. Why are you squeezing me with your body? It's a hug, Michael. I'm hugging you. Did you enjoy your lunch, mom? You drank it fast enough. Annyong. Hey, it was one night of wild passion! And yet you didn't notice her body? I like to look in the mirror.

Ah, it is a rock, though. Should beat everything. Gob: There's not a lot of logic to it. It's as Ann as the nose on Plain's face. One of the guys told me to take my head out of my BOTTOM and get back to work…my BOTTOM! Hahahaha. Wow. We're just blowing through nap time, aren't we. [Stabbing Gob] White power! Gob: I'm white! For there's a man inside me, and only when he's finally out, can I walk free of pain. I don't want no part of yo tight-ass country club, ya freak bitch!

You're Killing Me, Buster. Well, I spent so much time making sweet love on my wife that it's hard to hear anything over the clatter of her breasts. Let me out that Queen. This is not what it looks like. It looks like you're tweaking her nipples through a chain-link fence. What's next, Michael? Are you going to make dancing illegal? Is this the tiny town from Footloose?

Well, if you want to play Eve, you got to get in line behind what, above five homos. With spicy club sauce.

I never thought I'd miss a hand so much! You might enjoy this. Oh. Em. Gee. That's amazing. I see you've wasted no time in filling my seat hole. The CIA should've just Googled for his hideout, evidently. Turns out he ended up getting too friendly with the teddy bear. Mom… after all these years, God's not going to take a call from you.

She wanted to look 48. I nearly airbrushed her into oblivion. Ended up checking "albino" on the form. I'm a complete failure. I can't even fake the death of a stripper. I didn't mean who… I meant… her?

Popcorn shrimp… with club sauce. Go ahead, touch the Cornballer. Well, if you want to play Eve, you got to get in line behind what, above five homos. Interfere? I ought to pull down your pants and spank your ass raw. Michael: I'm sorry, have we met? Why are you squeezing me with your body? It's a hug, Michael. I'm hugging you.

I didn't mean who… I meant… her? Happy Franklin Friday. You're Killing Me, Buster. How could I say no to the woman who gave me chlamydia? How do you know Steve Holt? Are you in AA? Interfere? I ought to pull down your pants and spank your ass raw. Michael: I'm sorry, have we met? Heyyyy uncle father Oscar. No, she's in it. She's a contestant. It's sorta like an inner beauty pageant. Ah, there it is.

I want to cry so bad, but I don't think I can spare the moisture. Buster, what are you doing with mother's rape-horn? Douche chill! There's unlimited juice? This party is gonna be off the hook. Are you at all concerned about an uprising? Do the right thing here. String this blind girl along so that dad doesn't have to pay his debt to society.