There is no definitive guidebook on how to pick the right partner, and even if there were, I'm way too dumb to write it.

You go ahead. I'd rather not be shot out of a tube into a pool filled with a bunch of nine-year-olds' urine.

[The] majority of the girls working there had major emotional problems. And not cries-too-much emotional problems; more like stabs-her-boyfriend-with-a-steak-knife-then-falls-into-a-corner-and-starts-whispering-to-herself emotional problems.

There is no definitive guidebook on how to pick the right partner, and even if there were, I'm way too dumb to write it.

Oh spare me, being stuck in your bedroom is not like prison. You don't have to worry about being gang-raped in your bedroom.

The worst thing you can be is a liar. . . . Okay, fine, yes, the worst thing you can be is a Nazi, but then number two is liar. Nazi one, liar two.

When it's asshole-tightening time, that's when you see what people are made of. Or at least what their asshole is made of.