Somehow the pantsless gay man is not bringing the romance, Scott.

‎All my stupid little thoughts beget stupid little thoughts, rampantly speculating every possible outcome of every possible situation until they're all done to death and none of them could ever be true.

Listen to this, okay? Just listen. You hear that? That's market bacon hitting the pan. Today a child is born unto us, and his name will be bacon.

Tell it to the cleaning lady on Monday. Because you'll be dust on Monday. Because I'll be pulverizing you sometime over the weekend. And the cleaning lady... cleans up... dust. She dusts. And she has weekends off, so... Monday. Right?

These shoes are Mr Silly's shoes, Scott.

Scott: I don't think I'm ready to be a grown-up. Kim: I don't think you are either, buddy. But hey, you'll get it. It just takes practice.

Okay, this might sound vague, but do you know this one girl with hair like this?