I guess you can say I'm buy-curious. She's a girl, I need to teach her how to be a woman. Within her lies a queen. Let me out that queen. Mister gay is bleeding! Mister gay! I've got a nice hard cot with his name on it. You'd do that to your own brother? I said "cot." Popcorn shrimp… with club sauce.

Probably out there without a flipper, swimming around in a circle, freaking out his whole family. Or it could be your colon. I'd want to get in there and find some answers. She calls it a mayonegg. I spent so much time making sweet love on my wife that it's hard to hear anything over the clatter of her breasts. Even it means me taking a chubby… I will suck it up. Please refrain from discussing or engaging in any sort of interoffice [bleep] or [bleep] or finger[bleep] or [bleep]sting or [bleep] or even [bleep]. Hey, Dad. Look at you. You're a year older…and a year closer to death. Buster: Oh yeah, I guess that's kind of funny.

¡Soy loco por los Cornballs! She calls it a mayonegg. Get rid of the Seaward. Lucille: I'll leave when I'm good and ready. The only thing I found in the fridge was a dead dove in a bag. Gob: You didn't eat that, did you? I was once called the worst audience participant Cirque du Soleil ever had. I'm gonna go get sexy. Yes. Lindsay and I are planning a night of heterosexual intercourse. If I make this comeback, I'll buy you a hundred George Michaels that you can teach to drive!

We'll have to find something to do so that people can look at you without wanting to kill themselves. Could it be love? I know what an erection feels like, Michael. No, it's the opposite. It's like my heart is getting hard. A million ****ing diamonds!

I think the only time you cooked for us was the morning Rosa's mom died. You gave us cereal in an ashtray. I need a fake passport, preferably to France…I like the way they think.

Suddenly playing with yourself is a scholarly pursuit? George Michael, you want to put your head down there by his drainage shunt? Fun and failure both start out the same way. I've always been deeply passionate about nature. Perhaps you remember Neuterfest? M: I'll never forget your wedding. George Michael may be suffering from what we in the soft-sciences call Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or the "OC Disorder."

Everyone's laughing, and riding, and cornholing except Buster. She's a contestant. It's sorta like an inner beauty pageant. Ah, there it is. Whenever she'd change clothes, she'd make me wait on the balcony until zip-up, and yet anything goes at bath time. The Army had half a day. I know what an erection feels like, Michael. No, it's the opposite. It's like my heart is getting hard. And THAT'S why you always leave a note.

Let me give that oatmeal some brown sugar. Here he comes. Here comes John Wayne. Hola, is Rosa still alive? No? Well this is not my day. One of the guys told me to take my head out of my BOTTOM and get back to work…my BOTTOM! Hahahaha. He… she… what's the difference? Oh hear, hear. In the dark, it all looks the same. Early. A million ****ing diamonds! I'm not a prostitute. Then I shall let you live!

Let me take off my assistant's skirt and put on my Barbra-Streisand-in-The-Prince-of-Tides ass-masking therapist pantsuit. Let me give that oatmeal some brown sugar. Well, they got the Asian right… "hotties" might be a stretch. Well, if you want to play Eve, you got to get in line behind what, above five homos. But where did the lighter fluid come from?

Daddy horny, Michael. I mean, it's one banana, Michael. What could it cost, ten dollars? Don't worry, these young beauties have been nowhere near the bananas. She keeps saying that God is going to show me a sign. The… something of my ways. Wisdom? It's probably wisdom. Taste the happy, Michael. Taste it. It tastes kind of like sad.