Larry:
You're not gonna believe this, but there's a snow cone vendor out there not wearing a bra.
Amy Butlin:
Is that a violation?
Larry:
No, but it makes me want to get a snow cone.
Larry:
Hey, what's going on Donnie?
Donnie:
Hey, Larry. You wanna play?
Larry:
You know what? I can't. I'm late and I gotta get something to eat. My boss is a dickweed.
Donnie:
Dickweed. Dickweed. Dickweed!
Larry:
[
after the dinner date, and Larry has to go to the bathroom. He then lets off a large amount of turds] Oh, Good Lord! Oh, Jesus Christ and his sheperds!
[
lets off more of his turds into the toilet]
Jane Whitley:
Larry? Are you okay in there?
Larry:
[
yelling] Oh, yeah! Everythin's alright!
[
to himself]
Larry:
Oh, Good Lord!
[
trying to get toilet paper, but it runs short]
Larry:
Oh, God! You gotta be kiddin' me!
[
sees a wash rag on the sink, then grabs it, he then begins to wipe his rear-end]
Larry:
On one hand, Kid Rock wants to take me fishing. On the other, I have Jane, who's a real woman, who wants to get naked with me in a biblical way.
Jane Whitley:
Nice Rod, Larry.
Larry:
[
to himself] She said "Rod."
Amy Butlin:
Damn it, I am a woman. I have breasts! They may not be especially large, but they're perky, and my nipples could cut glass!
Larry:
I drive alone. I inspect alone, sometimes I'll even have sex alone. But never on company time. That's my policy.
Larry:
You ever fart so hard your back cracks?
[
after farting]
Larry:
Good Lord Jesus and Dale Earnhardt Jr., I am a dadgum time bomb.
Larry:
Hey, I'm gonna go to the bathroom. I gotta take the Browns to the Super Bowl.
Amy Butlin:
After lunch today, he told me there was a brown snake playing peek-a-boo with his butthole. I aced Bio. I do not recall brown snakes.
Larry:
Ms. Macechelli was dilling his pickle
Jane Whitley:
Dilling his pickle?
Larry:
Chucking his corn.
Amy Butlin:
Chucking his corn?
Larry:
Trimming his tree.
Jane Whitley:
Trimming his tree?
Larry:
Branching his limb.
Amy Butlin:
Branching his limb?
Larry:
Oh, I can do this all day.
Larry:
That'll go down faster than a bottle of Vicodin at Courtney Love's house.
Larry:
She was so ugly, she coulda trick or treated over the telephone.
Larry:
He's going down faster than a bottle of vodka in Courtney Love's house.
Larry:
[
Jane farts] Ooh, I bet that left a mark.
[
Jane farts louder]
Larry:
Sounds like you got something honking for the right of way.
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