In prison, you just have to close your eyes and take it, but here you have to close your eyes and give it. Yes, Annyong. Your name is Annyong! We all know you're Annyong! Heyyyyyy Uncle Father Oscar. Taste the happy, Michael. Taste it. It tastes kind of like sad. Butterscotch! Want a lick? Are you sure this isn't her sister? Mrs Veal: What a lovely thing to say. Michael: That's an awful thing to say. Go ahead, touch the cornballer.

Quicken! Premiere! 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!

You need to do more with Rita. Believe me, I'd like to. Yeah, that's a cultural problem is what it is. You know, your average American male is in a perpetual state of adolescence, you know, arrested development. (Hey. That's the name of the show!) God knows they're squinters. It's as Ann as the nose on Plain's face.

Michael, I'm your older brother. I'll never be proud of you. It looks like you've been looking for dragons… in the future. I was once called the worst audience participant Cirque du Soleil ever had. Say something that will terrify me. Lindsay: F*** me. Tobias: No, that didn't do it. Oh, I don't have any drugs for sale, unless… did you want me to follow you to your car? Annyong.

She wanted to look 48. I nearly airbrushed her into oblivion. Ended up checking "albino" on the form. The only thing more terrifying than the escaped lunatic's hook was his twisted call… Hey campers! If this were a Lifetime Moment of Truth movie, this would be our act break. But it wasn't. Let me give that oatmeal some brown sugar. Let's make Ann the backup, okay? Very good way to think about her, as a backup.

Well, Michael, I did not find their buffoonery amusing. Tobias Fünke costume.

Popcorn shrimp… with club sauce. Oh Gob, you could charm the black off a telegram boy. I am going to my spin class. I thought you had vertigo. It's a jetpack, Michael. What could go wrong? Talk you off what, Pop Pop?

And although the intervention didn't work, it turned into one of the Bluth family's better parties. Are all the guys in here… you know? George Sr.: No, not all of them. Barry: Yeah. It's never the ones you hope. I am getting rid of this thing. It has caused me nothing but pride and self-respect. There's unlimited juice? This party is gonna be off the hook. I don't want no part of yo tight-ass country-club, ya freak bitch! Dad asked me to do this on the day he pleads not guilty, as a spectacular protest. A…. ? I'm not a prostitute. Then I shall let you live!

Don't call my escorts whores. Well, obviously, I'm not a big guy. I'm not a Carl Weathers, par example. Oh, like when they say "poofter" to mean "tourist", yes. The only thing more terrifying than the escaped lunatic's hook was his twisted call… Heyyyyy campers! It's so watery. And yet there's a smack of ham to it. Caw ca caw, caw ca caw, caw ca caw, caw ca caw. I think the only time you cooked for us was the morning Rosa's mom died. You gave us cereal in an ashtray. Everybody dance… NOW.

Bob Loblaw Lobs Law Bomb. 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!