*sips discretely from a kiddie pool filled with tequila*

Tell my wife I said, "Hello."

I throw cash like Don Draper. I'm classy.

Old man yells at crowd…of attractive young people.

I just hose mine down in the yard and hang to dry. No muss no fuss.

That's a serious illness known to the medical community as Jim Crowtch.

Those aren't for me. My crotch does not discriminate.

I use the waste resulting from eating my underwear to fertilize my potato crop. Man, those are some good taters.

Goddamn it! I've lost my special dialing wand!

I'm surprised that you even leave your house with that situation.

Nope. Just hands and dicks. Openings are only available at the semi-annual free for all.

That's our command to switch partners at the weekly gathering of my dutch rudder group.

It'll be Human Centipide style handling of feedings and waste.

I really hope that doesn't happen.

I'm a Joe Estevez man, myself.

He'd better learn that Norris less when it comes to puns.

I excluded Planet Terror because he didn't direct that film. However, his balls turning into a soupy mess was quite satisfying.

I recently had occasion to rewatch it. I'd only recommend this movie to fans of AC/DC or people that want to hear Yeardly Smith scream for two hours.

How did my feet get burned!?!?!?

If it would be anything less than face melting awesomeness I would consider it a failure.