I will be a bigger and hairier mole than the one on your inner left thigh! Let me take off my assistant's skirt and put on my Barbra-Streisand-in-The-Prince-of-Tides ass-masking therapist pantsuit. Look at us, crying like a couple of girls on the last day of camp. It feels good to be back in a queen! I know what an erection feels like, Michael. Probably out there without a flipper, swimming around in a circle, freaking out his whole family.

I may have committed some light treason. I could use a leather jacket for when I'm on my hog and have to go into a controlled slide. Did Ted make an appointment? No. Well then Ted can GET THE HELL OUT OF THIS OFFICE! YOU GET THE HELL OUT! You want to have some guy reach around you in the middle of the night, start messing with your junk? Yes. Lindsay and I are planning a night of heterosexual intercourse. Actually, that was a box of Oscar's legally obtained medical marijuana. Primo bud. Real sticky weed.

Go ahead, touch the cornballer. Mr. Zuckerkorn, you've been warned about touching. You said spanking. Saw this on the highway and almost blue myself. Hop on? They want to break his legs. It's a good thing he's already got that little scooter. How could I say no to the woman who gave me chlamydia? I see you've wasted no time in filling my seat hole.

Say goodbye to THESE! When a man needs to prove to a woman that he's actually… When a man loves a woman… Let's make Ann the backup, okay? Very good way to think about her, as a backup. I'll sacrifice anything for my children. Go ahead, touch the Cornballer. Yeah, like I'm going to take a whiz through this $5,000 suit. COME ON. This objectification of women has to stop. It's just Mom and whores. Ann, you need to decide whether you want a man or a boy. I know how I'd answer.

Do you have any idea how often you say the word afraid? Well, I know I used it in the Jacuzzi. But I did finally get into Dad's pants. Although I had to have the crotch taken in a little bit. If I make this comeback, I'll buy you a hundred George Michaels that you can teach to drive! Well excuse me, Judge Reinhold! I'm in Vegas this week and would like to point out the Blue Man Group is *actually* hiring. The support group? She's not 'that Mexican', Mom. She's my Mexican. And she's Colombian or something. If I make this comeback, I'll buy you a hundred George Michaels that you can teach to drive! So maybe you could start jete-ing, and stop je-terrorizing me!

What's up, fizz-ellas. I think I might have someone who's going to circumvrent the law. Shémale. I run a pretty tight ship around here. With a pool table. It's a gaming ship.

George Michael may be suffering from what we in the soft-sciences call Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or the "OC Disorder." Please refrain from Mayoneggs during this salmonella scare. Well, if you want to play Eve, you got to get in line behind what, above five homos. This is not me encouraging you to go here and write a review. No.

What, so the guy we are meeting with can't even grow his own hair? COME ON! She's a contestant. It's sorta like an inner beauty pageant. Ah, there it is. Did Ted make an appointment? No. Well, then Ted can GET THE HELL OUT OF THIS OFFICE! YOU GET THE HELL OUT! She's a girl, I need to teach her how to be a woman. Within her lies a queen. Let me out that queen. 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'm foolish and I'm funny and I'm needy. Am I needy? Are you sure I'm not needy? 'Cause I feel needy sometimes. Aren't you the sweetest thing, spending time with what's left of your uncle. Do you guys know where I could get one of those gold necklaces with the T on it? That's a cross. Across from where? Don't leave your Uncle T-bag hanging. Heyyyyyy Uncle Father Oscar. Mr. Zuckerkorn, you've been warned about touching. You said spanking. Pound is tic-tac-toe, right? Heyyyy uncle father Oscar.

Today I learned this is a real place, tho more lush than the OC. What is she doing at a beauty pageant? Is she running the lights or something? I'm an ideas man, Michael. I think I proved that with "Fuck Mountain." What about macaroni – let me finish – salad?