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. Are all the guys in here… you know? George Sr: No not all of them. Barry: Yeah. It’s never the ones you hope. Well, OK, have sex with this girl. Right now. Get in there, have some sex with her. Also, your knee is on my heart. There are dozens of us! Dozens! Sweet old thing. Only two of those words describe Mom, so I know you’re lying to me.
Chickens don’t clap! Michael was concerned that he was caught in a lie about his family. The family was concerned that they were being confronted by a woman they had clubbed, drugged, and left on a bench.
Today I learned this is a real place, tho more lush than the OC. Yeah, I invited her. You said you wanted to spend time some with her. You said I was being an Ann hog. I could use a leather jacket for when I’m on my hog and have to go into a controlled slide. Happy. Everybody dance NOW. I mean, it’s one banana, Michael. What could it cost, ten dollars? I know, I just call her Annabelle cause she’s shaped like a…she’s the belle of the ball!
Shémale. No one was making fun of Andy Griffith. I can’t emphasize that enough. I never thought I’d miss a hand so much! George Michael may be suffering from what we in the soft-sciences call Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, or the “OC Disorder.”
Fried cheese… with club sauce. Popcorn shrimp… with club sauce. Chicken fingers… with spicy club sauce. She keeps saying that God is going to show me a sign. The… something of my ways. Wisdom? It’s probably wisdom. She’s not ‘that Mexican’, Mom. She’s my Mexican. And she’s Colombian or something. You might wanna lean away from that fire since you’re soaked in alcohol.