The Butter Shave

You know, I cannot stand this thing anymore. I know, I hate it too. I feel like an out-of-work porn star.

What if we grew mutton chops? - No. - Buzz cuts? - Parachute pants? - Stop it, George. Stop it.

With crutches, it's a funny story. With a cane, it's a sad story.

He's like that fish that attaches himself to the shark. - And you're the shark? - Yeah. I'm the shark.

I don't know how a fish could eat laughs. Well, I'm glad I brought it up.

- So, what's this job? - Oh, it's beautiful. It's in sports. - Knicks? Rangers? - Playground equipment.

Well, I guess she's batted around and she's back at the top of the order.

That guy's coming home in a body bag.

And tell me what time it is in New York, you are going home in a body bag.

Taking this lace out. It came undone, touched the floor of a men's room. That's the end of that.

Well, I ran out of butter, so I had to borrow yours. Anything else, Mr. Nosy?

Why are you buttering your face? I'm shaving with it. Oh, Moses, smell the roses.

the natural emollients keep my skin silky smooth. - Feel my face. - No. - No, feel it. - I don't want to. Feel it.

Handicap? Oh, I'm not handicapped. I'm sorry. Differently... Advantaged.

Jerry, let's face it. I've always been handicapped. I'm just now getting the recognition for it.

There was a guy that worked at the Yankees, no arms. He got more work done than I did... He drove a car with no arms? All right, I made up the part about the car, but the rest is true.

I love that bathroom. It's got that high toilet. I feel like a gargoyle perched on the ledge of a building.

- Who? - The toothbrush in the toilet bowl.

After dating Jerry, you're a pleasure.

I mean, the sex was good. Which I'm sure was fine for her... but I need more.

sometimes I ponder this silly gulf between us... and I say, why? Are we really so different? - For what is broth... - I'm not the one doing the cooking. Damn you, Seinfeld. You useless pustule.

You know, my last boyfriend, he had a real kroner comprehension problem. You know what I mean? A real cement head.

Oh, stick a fork in me, Jerry. I'm done.

Technically, you're sautéed.

No, I read an article in Bon Appétit.

No, I fake limp on my right. This is a real limp because I sprained my ankle.

Oh, like what? Ovaltine? Why do dogs drink out of the toilet? Shopping carts with one bad wheel?

You like Bania's act. You're a closet Bania fan. - Maybe I am. - Oh, I'm gonna puke. Puke? That's a funny word. Puke.

Please, please. I don't want to get involved. I hope a giant mountain rises out of the ocean and we ram right into it... and end this whole thing.

Yeah, now I'm simmering.

But your cane's on the wrong side... That's just because we're standing on opposite sides... so the image was reversed. Like in a mirror. You see?

You mugged Steven Hawking?

It must comforting to know you'll be going to hell... at no more than three miles an hour.

Shut up or I'll snap you in half and stuff you in the overhead.

His time has come... We're four months apart. - Nevertheless.

And what's the deal with cancer? I have cancer. Tough crowd.

What you got there, the four volt?

Turkey? A big, fat turkey.

Look at me. I'm all covered in oregano and parmesan... and it's sticking because of the butter. Look at me.

Your legs.

I love stuff you don't have to think about. Give us a call. We wanna be in the Kenny Bania business.

Puke? That's a funny word. Can I use that?

Hello. Oh, no. I'm sorry. Oh, no. No!