She's not that Mexican, Mom. She's my Mexican. And she's Columbian or something. YOU'RE the Chiclet! Not me. Caw ca caw, caw ca caw, caw ca caw! I'll have a vodka rocks. (Mom, it's breakfast time.) And a piece of toast. That's my son, you pothead! Stop it, stop it. This objectification of women has to stop. It's just Mom and whores. Got a big ass room at the travelodge. What a fun, sexy time for you. Stop it, stop it. This objectification of women has to stop. Michael: It's just Mom and whores.

The CIA should've just Googled for his hideout, evidently. Caw ca caw, caw ca caw, caw ca caw, caw ca caw. Oh, COME ON! George Michael may be suffering from what we in the soft-sciences call Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or the "OC Disorder." First I blow him, then I poke him.

Oh, yeah, the guy in the the $4,000 suit is holding the elevator for a guy who doesn't make that in three months. Come on! I am having a love affair with this ice cream sandwich.

We need a name. Maybe 'Operation Hot Mother'. [Stabbing Gob] White power! Gob: I'm white! One of the guys told me to take my head out of my BOTTOM and get back to work…my BOTTOM! Hahahaha. Sweet old thing. Only two of those words describe Mom, so I know you're lying to me. Pound is tic-tac-toe right? Hey, it was one night of wild passion! Michael: And yet you didn't notice her body? Gob: I like to look in the mirror. I'll be in the hospital bar. You know there isn't a hospital bar, Mother. Well, this is why people hate hospitals.

And that is why Jesus was often referred to as the King of Kings. Queens. The King of Queens. That coat costs more than your house! I am going to my spin class. I thought you had vertigo. I should be in this Poof. Ann, you need to decide whether you want a man or a boy. I know how I'd answer. A million ****ing diamonds!

This is not what it looks like. It looks like you're tweaking her nipples through a chain-link fence. I just haven't had sex in a month. You know, you've been here two months. It's hard to gauge time. Heyyyy Uncle Father Oscar. Although George Michael had only got to second base, he'd gone in head first, like Pete Rose. I want to cry so bad, but I don't think I can spare the moisture.

Everybody dance… NOW. Why are you squeezing me with your body? It's a hug, Michael. I'm hugging you.

Speaking of settling, How's Ann? The Man Inside Me seems well reviewed. Mom always taught us to curl up in a ball and remain motionless when confronted. Turn this skiff around! Everything they do is so dramatic and flamboyant. It just makes me want to set myself on fire. - Lucille Bluth. I've used one adjective to describe myself. What is it?

I'M A MONSTER!! He's going to be all right. A million [bleep]ing diamonds! Even though so many people in this office are begging for it. I believe you will find the dessert to be both engrossing and high-grossing! So we don't get dessert? Ohhh little guy. The tears aren't coming. The tears just aren't coming.

Caw ca caw, caw ca caw, caw ca caw, caw ca caw. It's Sunday, but screw it — juice box time.