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. I think the only time you cooked for us was the morning Rosa's mom died. You gave us cereal in an ashtray. No! These are just strippers! Look how hot they are! I will pack your sweet pink mouth with so much ice cream you'll be the envy of every Jerry and Jane on the block! Talk you off what, Pop Pop? I need a fake passport, preferably to France… I like the way they think.

No, no, it's pronounced a-nal-ra-pist. It wasn't really the pronunciation that bothered me. Saw this on the highway and almost blue myself. Hop on? Dead Dove DO NOT EAT.

Pound is tic-tac-toe right? She's a contestant. It's sorta like an inner beauty pageant. Ah, there it is. And with deep, deep concentration and, and great focus, he's often able to achieve an erect– 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. My brother wasn't optimistic it could be done, but I didn't take "wasn't optimistic it could be done" for an answer. Yes. Lindsay and I are planning a night of heterosexual intercourse. No one's called him Baby Buster since high school. No, no, it's pronounced a-nal-ra-pist. It wasn't really the pronunciation that bothered me.

I know what an erection feels like, Michael. Interfere? I ought to pull down your pants and spank your ass raw. Michael: I'm sorry, have we met? The only thing I found in the fridge was a dead dove in a bag. Gob: You didn't eat that, did you? The CIA should've just Googled for his hideout, evidently.

I just don't want him to point out my cracker ass in front of Ann. You might enjoy this. Oh. Em. Gee. That's amazing.

I was hoping he would be gifted sexually. Saw this on the highway and almost blue myself. Hop on? No, Pop-pop does not get a treat, I just brought you a [bleep]ing pizza.

Okay, Lindsay, are you forgetting that I was a professional twice over - an analyst and a therapist. The world's first analrapist. The worst that could happen is that I could spill coffee all over this $3,000 suit. COME ON. You just grab that brownish area by its points and you don't let go no matter what your mother tells you! Here he comes. Here comes John Wayne. Boy, I sure feel like a Mary without a Peter and a Paul. So you take your mom to work every day? Bummer. Moms are such a pain in the ass, huh? It's, like, die already!

You burn down the storage unit? Oh, most definitely. Teamocil.

Yeah, well, have you seen the new Mustang? You could hump that hood. Well, if you want to play Eve, you got to get in line behind what, above five homos. We need a name. Maybe "Operation Hot Mother." No, let's try to top that. (They never did.)

Make love in your *own* hand, Mother! Whoa whoa whoa whoa. Wait. Are you telling me you have a multi-stage trick with hidden identities? Go ahead, touch the cornballer. I've always been deeply passionate about nature. Perhaps you remember Neuterfest? M: I'll never forget your wedding. What's up, fizz-ellas. Let's see some bananas and nuts! I hear the jury's still out on science.