Ladies, hate to disappoint, but my quota for women who bug the bejesus out of me has been met for the next billion years.

Jordan, he’s starting to look like a guy and I’m just not real big on kissing guys. When my father showed me affection, he would purposely miss when he threw bottles at my head.

Two good reasons: His face and personality.

Wait, wait. Let me get in on this. Let’s also have a toast to Mr. Foster’s widow and his fatherless kids. You know as well as I do, it could have been any one of your faults. Congrats again. Have a… have a swell party.

Cut to the chase there, pee pants.

Oh, please. Jordan used to use that one on me all the time. Immune. Watch this. Satin panties.

And the category is… ding! Things that have a better chance of happening than you winning. Ted-ski, throw ten seconds on the clock for me, would you please? Go! Brain transplants, Britney Spears having another hit, the Rolling Stones going on a farewell tour and meaning it, me caring about anything that happens on Wisteria […]

Oh, gosh, Carla, I would. But you see, I already set fire to a big pile of money just this morning.

I’m a doctor. And we believe that without surgery, a patient in your condition can suffer from a major case of deadness.

God, elevator. He’s got my back, even if I don’t technically believe in him.