“I’m slurring my peaches?”

“I’m going to have to get Plan B for my sheets.”

“Hashtag AM NOT.”

“You were my first armpit.”

“I’ve got pledge juice all over me.”

“A suckling pig says what?”

“I can type 60 words per minute, and I can suck a golf ball through a garden hose.”

“If I don’t need therapy afterwards, you didn’t do it right.”

“Your throat is my happy place.”

“It’s as dead as my future in here.”

“I make my own proprietary blend out of Preparation H and Alocane.”

“There’s vigorous jiggling of my nethers going on.”

“But you know what’s bigger than his dick? His heart.”

“Is this how rabbits flag?”

“If you get Sharpie on your skin, it comes off with alcohol.” “So do my clothes.”

“Leather kilts are the poodle skirts of 2017.”

“Braveheart was Scottish, you Philistine.”

“So help me Lucifer…”

“You get a fist! And you get a fist! And you get a fist! I’m like the Oprah of fisting.”

“I really can’t make a sandwich with my hand over my heart.”

“A serving is one box. I don’t care what it says on the back.”

“I believe I ran out of an eighth-grade dance crying to this song.”

“Is this my mid-life crisis? This is my mid-life crisis, isn’t it?”

“You are NOT ugly. I don’t get naked with ugly.”

He’s speaking in cursive.”

“I’m going to sing ‘Something in Red’ and then prolapse.”

“I need one of those gynecological spoons.”

“I forgot I didn’t have pockets and put my phone in my ass.”

“I need more hands. Like Shiva.”

“I know he knows my name, because it’s on the restraining order.”

“I am Gloria Fucking Swanson, and don’t you forget it.”