Up All Night

They're very expensive freshwater clams from the... Cuyahoga River.

My whole staff has been blorching for three days

You make me want to vomit!

one minute, you're newlyweds making love on the floor of the Concorde. Then the next, your lawyers are fighting over who gets to keep the box your dog defecates in.

You taught your dog to poop in a box? Bianca did. But I want that box.

Are you angry or excited right now? I can't tell.

This would work on 'Ugly Betty.'

Me and Angie rented the penthouse at the Soho Grand, where we will drink wine and pleasure each other.

When you've been married 17 years, you have to keep it spicy. That's why me and my wife role-play. She put on a girl scout outfit with a box of cookies, and I answer the door in my boxers.

Or I rent out a wheelchair, and she pretends to be my caseworker. And, in a way, she is.

I just took a whole bunch of Cialis, because I have big Valentine's plans tonight. With who? Uh, nobody.

he's still insisting on having a Greek Orthodox wedding. But I really disagree with the church's stance on Cyprus.

I want all of your parents' love letters.

Oh, damn it, Johnny! You know I love my Big Beef and Cheddar!

Because it's Valentine's Day, and you know I don't... Oh, no. It's what? It's Valentine's Day. Again?

Well, who cares, you know? It's just Valentine's Day. It's also her birthday.

Did you just come from a Suzanne Somers look-alike contest?

Actually, I just came from performing at Vagina Day. Is that an offshoot of 'The Vagina Monologues'? No. We are in no way affiliated with 'The Vagina Monologues.'

Vagina Day is a charity event founded by a group of celebrities who have, for whatever reason, never been asked to participate in 'The Vagina Monologues.'

Every February 14th, we improvise monologues about our lady parts for the homeless. Oh, to benefit the homeless? No, just for them.

My vagina is a flower. A weird, ugly flower.

Marry, boff, kill? Beyoncé, Paula Abdul, and Oprah. Dude, that's beyond easy. Boff Beyoncé, kill Paula, marry Oprah.

Marry, boff, kill... Cerie, Liz, and Jenna. Once again, no-brainer. Marry Liz, get with Cerie, kill Jenna.

I can hear you!

But thank you for saying that you would marry me.

No, I'm not with so many men that it's impossible for me to guess. Well, that is just... Oh. Oh, well, you know what? I found the card, actually. They're from your mom. Yeah. So tell your gay mom I said thanks.

No, I'm not with so many men that it's impossible for me to guess.

Marriage is a competition. And after 18 years of overtime, I am finally going to claim victory.

Bone Osama bin Laden. To shame him. And then his own people would murder him.

I'd marry Toofer 'cause he's classy. I'd kill Lutz. Sorry, Lutz. The thought that you would do anything to me is awesome.

And I'd boff Kenneth. What?! Really?

'Cause you're a big phony. What? Everything about you is fake. Your tan's fake. Your hair is fake. Not the front.

My vagina is a convenience store... clean and reliable and closed on Christmas.

I mean, if you met her, you might think she's wonderful. But, believe me, she is the succubus from the bowels of hell.

I wish I could touch her boobs again. She really had a fabulous pair of boobs.

I admit sometimes I would fantasize about her getting various terminal illnesses, and I would nurse her... to her death.

what are you doing tonight?

We have reports of a nitrogen leak on this floor. Oh, no, our room is fine. I mean, we don't smell it. Oh, it's odorless, sir.

I think it's coming... from my butt. Oh, no! I'm married!

Role-play, baby! Give it to me, baby!

Happy Valentimes!

No. It gives me a headache. This is a Krug Clos du Mesnil, and I was saving it for a special occasion.

I clean this, too, or, uh, just the sex?

You tell G. E. light-bulb man, I want 'Sophie's Choice' out of my suite!

In fact, she's pretty sure I'm the reincarnated soul of Adrian Twyfer. He was our town minister who died in an organ fire.

No, I think she's kind of like Dr Pepper.

This is the second-worst Valentine's Day we ever had.

Marry, boff, kill... Bianca. Which do you want to do? All of them.

You wear your thrift-store T-shirts and your big, weird glasses and everybody says, 'Oh, look at Frank. He's so cool. He has a hat that says Extra Cheese.'

Okay, fine. I pooted. It's 3:00 in the morning. Are you happy?

If I blew it, then how did I get her underpants?

I wouldn't be surprised if that 5-inch scar across my abdomen was suddenly gone.

I'm gonna shut it down, leave it vacant, open the windows, and let nature have at it.

You know, I've heard that, in Greece, they have to change Charlton Heston's name on movie posters to Charlton Easton because in Greek the word 'heston' means 'to poop yourself.'

I prefer 'law stylist.'

Happy Valentimes!