We'll be fine. Trust me.


I paid for this bouquet, bitches!


Sheila: Everything I wanted you got. Your husband went away and came back. Mine, not so much. It's never gonna happen. So, what am I left with here? I've got a lot of money. I've got Damien in a wheel chair, and oh yeah, an empty bed.
Janet: You really need to get laid.
Sheila: I know!

It's not just an eye watering, nasty, horrific, soul sucking fart anymore, you know. It's the smell of love, man. Love.


Katy: I'm going to start drinking and become a prostitute.
Tommy: Honey, I'll do it.

For one day only, we are not Gavins. We are nice, decent, civilized human beings.


Black kid with a Mexican name. You're a one man crime spree just waiting to happen.


Franco: What the hell is up with that jacket dude? Looks like you just joined a boy band, Kato.
Needles: Proves my theory that you know absolutely no nothing about style. This is the latest thing, my friend. It's hip. It's trendy.
Lou: Does it come with a gay Asian lover or do you have to provide that yourself?

Why can't a Mexican become a firefighter? Because they can't tell the difference between Jose and Hose B.

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