- Do I got anything in my 'stache? - You're clean.

- I think you do. - Fuck you, Mr. High Horse.

- I love Steven. - So why are you fucking me?

And I assume Sharon won't be accompanying you, right?

- You been eating retard sandwiches. - I don't need your shit.

- I can go with that. - Nice? Well, it doesn't exist.

That's cos I don't show up at your parties drunk.

- I didn't have any styrofoam. - That's OK. I'll bring 'em back.

You want all that back. I can't give that to you.

And the tits. Please! I could hang my overcoat on them.

- I mean this is for you and for me. - Thanks, guys.

I'm sorry. Could you just tell her that I stopped by?

Hi, Mrs. Cassidy. I know it's late. I'm sorry. Is Sharon home?

I tell you what. Drink your shot, go back to your boys,

Can I ask a question? How long have you been with your boyfriend?

And if you did hook a model, I guarantee you'd be sick of her.

I look for that in a man. The ones who make me miserable never last.