Category: Quips

I think that your fiancé is a self-involved, bobble-headed jock itch who is not good enough for you. Not now, not ever.

We’re four seconds in and I’m already regretting my decision.

Everyone, this is my sister, Paige. Paige, I’d like you to meet random people I don’t care about.

I used to just look into my gut and know what to do. Now I got all this self-doubt. Barbie, you got massive amounts of doubt, romantically, professionally, personally. How do you deal with it?

Okay, here’s the deal. If we’re gonna beat this thing, and we damn sure are, we’re gonna do it one way and one way only. We’re gonna be a team! We’re gonna be a team, team, team, team, team! You hear me?

Boy, I’ll tell you what, it’s just not a wedding without a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader, is it.

Lookit, here’s the rule, there, porn-star: The moment her toothbrush hits your sink, you’ve got yourself a permanent roomie.

Jordan, why aren’t you more upset about this? I, honest to God, I don’t get it. I mean, normally you’d go to your mother’s for a bitch refresher course, and then you’d come right back here just swinging for the fences.

Anyway, I just invited Paige to come by. Mr. Donnelly’s labs came back and it looks like the steroid is finally working. If you happen to be keeping score at home, that would be Medicine, One – God, Zero.

Barbie, there you are. Thank God. As you know, I can’t make a decision without your help, so here goes. On Oprah, there’s a story about Lindsay Lohan’s eating disorder, but on E! there’s a story about Lindsay Lohan’s fabulous new Tribeca loft. Don’t get me wrong, I want to watch something about Lindsay Lohan. I’m just a little lost here.