Dr. Desmond Forest Oates: Put your hand down little Steve.
Coach Hibble: Nice trick there, Landers, catching the ball with your face. Next thing you know, you'll be shooting three-pointers with your ass.
Allison McAllister: Trends fade, bread molds, people die.
Kelly: Are you crying?
Berke Landers: No, you're squeezing my puncture wound.
Dr. Desmond Forest Oates: Bill Shakespeare was a wonderful poet. But Burt Bacharach he ain't.
Felix Woods: Hey grabby hands, step away from the sister.
Basin: My dance partner? shit.
Dr. Desmond Forest Oates: That's enough out of your muck mouth.
Dr. Desmond Forest Oates: I'd like you to read this poster and tell me what it says at the bottom.
Kelly: "No food or drink allowed in the auditorium at any time."
Dr. Desmond Forest Oates: It says "Twelve original songs by Dr. Desmond Forest Oates."
Kelly: Oh, that part.
Dr. Desmond Forest Oates: Yes, that part. I'll tell you what it doesn't say. It doesn't say "Additional lyrics by little miss sassy pants."
Dr. Desmond Forest Oates: Keep icing your front bum. Swelling continues if you don't ice. And I need you... not really.
Dr. Desmond Forest Oates: I remember what the wonderful Bobby De Niro said to me. Well, not to me, I read it in an article.
Berke Landers: O fair Hermia, thou art so incredibly hot and stuff.
Berke Landers: Felix, I've taken pisses longer than your last three relationships.
Jessica: Sir, your wife called. She won't be able to make it to the show tonight.
Dr. Desmond Forest Oates: Did she say why?
Jessica: It was hard to understand through the slur.
