For the same reason you should believe a hundred dollar bill is no more than a hundred pennies! YOU'RE the Chiclet! Not me. Caw ca caw, caw ca caw, caw ca caw! Excuse me, do these effectively hide my thunder? Heyyyyyy, Uncle Father Oscar.

You can control your bladder when you're dead! Can't a guy call his mother pretty without it seeming strange? Amen. And how about that little piece of tail on her? Cute! And here you are coming out of your mother's third base! Buster, what are you doing with mother's rape-horn?

Who? i just dont want him to point out my cracker ass in front of ann. No, I was ashamed to be SEEN with you. I like being with you. YOU'RE the Chiclet! Not me. Caw ca caw, caw ca caw, caw ca caw! Also, your knee is on my heart. Go ahead, touch the Cornballer. He's going to be all right.

Everyone's laughing, and riding, and cornholing except Buster. It's one banana Michael, what could it cost, ten dollars? Wow. We're just blowing through nap time, aren't we. No, Pop-pop does not get a treat. I just bought you a f**king pizza. You're losing blood, aren't you? Gob: Probably, my socks are wet. You can control your bladder when you're dead! Don't leave your Uncle T-bag hanging.

The only thing I found in the fridge was a dead dove in a bag. Gob: You didn't eat that, did you? Stop licking my hand, you horse's ass. Stop licking my hand, you horse's ass.

♪♪ It ain't easy being white… ♪♪ I could use a leather jacket for when I'm on my hog and have to go into a controlled slide. Happy. We have unlimited juice? This party is going to be off the hook.

Stop licking my hand, you horse's ass. I know she's a brownish area! With points! And I love her! I believe you will find the dessert to be both engrossing and high-grossing! So we don't get dessert? They're not gonna strip, right? I told them not to, but I can't guarantee their instincts won't kick in.

Maybe it was the other George Michael. You know, the singer-songwriter. Look at us, crying like a couple of girls on the last day of camp. You're blowing my mind, Frank. Second-of-ly, I know you're the big marriage expert. Oh I'm sorry, I forgot, your wife is dead. Well, Michael, I did not find their buffoonery amusing.

A sea of waiters and no one will take a drink order. You can control your bladder when you're dead! The Man Inside Me seems well reviewed. What about macaroni – let me finish – salad?

Go ahead, touch the cornballer. She wanted to look 48. I nearly airbrushed her into oblivion. Ended up checking "albino" on the form. Am I in two thirds of a hospital room? Dead Dove DO NOT EAT. I just dont want him to point out my cracker ass in front of Ann. Oh, yeah, the $4,000 suit is holding the elevator for a guy who doesn't make that in 3 months. Come on! Of course. The "Bob Loblaw Law Blog." Wow. You, sir, are a mouthful!