I should go clean out my locker...she said at the age of 33.
Britta: What's an insurance appraiser?
Annie: Something that sounds normal and boring, but is actually scary, like a raised mole, or a turkey deep-fryer.
Britta: I'm a psych major! Words are my weapons!
Security Guard: I'm a security guard. Weapons are my weapons.
Britta: You know who else it made sense to?
Annie: Say 'Hitler' one more time and I am giving you a 2.
No, come back! Let's be fat dogs about this!
Britta: Do you feel like this game's gotten out of hand?
Jeff: Nah. Feels normal enough for a school that's on 911's blocked caller list.
We're human beings, not the editors of Teen Vogue!
Did you all hit your heads on each other's heads?
Britta: You guys ready for closure?!
Buzz Hickey: Of your caskets?!
Troy: I'm better at sex than Jeff, right?
Britta: I've yet to have anyone worse.
You told me a hawk stole them! You exploited me and made me believe in a slightly more magical world!
We know that he hates money. Or loves it. Or doesn't care about money and hates butts. Or loves them.