Linda, reading off her phone: Bobby, are you from Paris? Because ma-damn!
Bob: That doesn't work if I'm a guy
Linda, off the cuff: Fine. Are you from Paris? Because you mon-sure are fine as hell.
Bob: I- God that was smooth
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Linda, reading off her phone: Bobby, are you from Paris? Because ma-damn!
Bob: That doesn't work if I'm a guy
Linda, off the cuff: Fine. Are you from Paris? Because you mon-sure are fine as hell.
Bob: I- God that was smooth
Gene: MOM COME LOOK AT THE LOBSTER
Linda: Sweetie that's a ferret
Louise: What's your biggest fear?
Tina: Being alone
Louise: [getting a tarantula out of a box] Guess again, idiot
Linda: I don't give a fuck if there is a microchip in the vaccine. They could put a whole iPod Nano inside me if it meant I was allowed to get drunk at Olive Garden again
Linda: For my second date with Bob, we met in the city and went to a party and ended up at a restaurant at 3:00 AM where he reached across the table, grabbed my hands, looked at me adoringly, and said, “I hate this. I wanted to go to bed at 9:00. Do not expect this of me again.”
Bob, in bed and drunk: You know, the only reason I feel the need to constantly assert that I'm the sexiest person in any room I'm in isn't because I'm self absorbed. It's really just that fake hyper-confidence is really my only coping mechanism for my overwhelming insecurities and childhood trauma.
Linda, who knows he's full of shit: [pulling the comforter over her head] Go the fuck to sleep, Bobby
Bob, a little drunk: Guy Fieri's spiky hair might seem weird at first, until you realize it's his natural defense against getting ratatouilled in the kitchen
Bob: I'm trying to stop the bisexual blue-screen going on in my head, Linda, please let me have this
Linda: Alright, Bobby