Let’s take pictures of us eating all this food and then show it to some homeless person.
If you ever need someone to drink with, I’ll drink with you. If you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I’ll drink with you. I guess what I’m trying to say is: I love to drink!
I’m too tired to slap you, would you bash your face against my palm?
Knock! Knock! Anybody homo?
You say potato, I say vodka.
I guess I could get rid of Pastry Chef. He makes these weird brownies that don’t make me paranoid.
The only other person I’ve apologized to is my mother and that was court ordered.
It’s not something you can just run away from like a hotel bill… or a crying baby.
Honey my catch phrase is: 24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case, you figure it out.
Why don’t you save your anger for the bedroom, where it belongs.
That was your drink talking? Well, right now, MY drink is talking. And it’s saying, “Drink me, I make life more fun. Anyone from a hgh school senior to a hobo under a bridge knows that!”
Honey, it’s a waste of time. Like exercise. Or reading to your kids.
OK, Rule number 1: Unless you’re served in a frosted glass, never come within 4 feet of my lips.
He’s taking me to Cancun for a week. Maybe I’ll take some jeans and trade ’em for a new maid.
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