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Lisa: What kind of artists are you?
Jermaine: Sandwich artists.

Bret: In a way I think we learned more from her than she learned from us.
Jemaine: Well obviously. Because we taught her nothing.

Bret: She can't hear us. We're stage whispering.
Lisa: I can hear you.
Jermaine: No you can't!

I don't wanna get stuck behind the joggers from the fat camp.


Krusty: Where's the closest place I can score some victory weed?
Judge: That would be the courthouse cafeteria.

Lisa: One night we spoke only in lines from famous poems.
Grampa: Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me.
Lisa: Emily Dickson!?
Grampa: No, I was just describing my day.

Otto: What's the matter Lisa, you're normally the first one off this death trap?
Lisa: The combination of me leaving arts camp and you driving on and off the shoulder has made me a little ill.
Otto: I guess I shouldn't be playing this driving game while driving.

Can my son come too? He knows what to do when I swallow my tongue.


The arctic circle, or as I long to call it, my wife's side of the bed. For the purposes of that joke I'm married.

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