Loved you in The Shining.

That flick would feel like it's taking dog years to end, I'm sure.

Your story becomes something else entirely when you leave out the whole "you were both sans pants" angle.

I just chiseled off two-fifths of my white person badge and figured it'd count.

She'd be able to fund her prez run if it WAS that way, though, HHG.

Hey, now. Some of my best friends are tsetse flies.

Shuttleworth?

I would have roundhouse-kicked my grandmother if it meant I could have pressed up against Kim Basinger circa Batman.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe.

Okay, now it's one of those times.

I heard one woman tried to leave, but you were able to talk her down and convince her that she had no leg to stand on.

I'm glad you were able to shoot that angry ballet dancer, Reg.

(Bryan Scalabrine sheds a single tear but cannot keep from watching every second of it)

"By the way, it says BALLS on your face."

Isn't William Kristol the delightful fellow who hosted the Awards of the Academy thrice or more, and who is a dinner guest in my home tonight? Bliss!

You didn't help your case by sneaking half of a watermelon into the theatre for a snack.

But was she YOUR paraplegic woman?

Soce, sometimes I just want to take you into a field, sit you down on a rock or a fence post, and sketch you in charcoal.

@Holy Hand Grenade:

Superhero cape?