The P.A.

Larry:Yeah, and those are big cups.

Larry:I feel like I have 20 pounds of wet sand in my head.

Larry:I was nuttier in the late eighties.

Cully:Hey, dad, where's the crapper? I gotta drop the kids off at the pool.

Larry:What a freak. What a big fucking freak.

Larry:Talk up. They're in the crapper, for God's sakes.

Larry:I was just thinking he's got such a great personality, maybe he should be the receptionist.

Larry:You remember that summer we hired sheldon's son and we caught him in the xerox room with a copy of hustler? Remember what he was doing?

Larry:What am I, a pussy? Why don't I send him something nice like a parasol and some earrings?

Hank:If you're within an 8-foot radius, whoop it up.

Hank:Don't lip off to the head rooster, you're set.

Larry:honestly, like some kind of cardboard shit.

Larry:That's the kissing disease. Don't kiss me!

Artie:I got fruit baskets comin' out of my ass.

Cully:Dad, that network dipshit is sitting in your office waiting for you.

Cully:It's not as thrilling as un-jamming the xerox machine, but no, I do not mind.

Cully:Hey, slim pants, yogurt?

Hank:No, thanks, fat pants.

Cully:Non-dairy is strawberry swirl, or as I like to call it, the queer's delight.

I'll have that.

Lar will have queer's delight.

Paula:I think he's very sexy, and I'd like to sleep with him.

Paula:Good. I'm so tired of all the neurotic pussies around here.

Hank:Well, maybe he went to 'this can't be yogurt.' Where's that? It's right near 'what is this, yogurt?' You know, I don't care if he goes to 'hey, that's my asshole.' I just want some yogurt.

Larry:Actually, I... I... I prefer it... extra-wet. It's, uh, more like real yogurt.

Artie:Everyone screws up the yogurt. I used to screw it up back when it was ice cream, and my car smelled like rotten milk, but that's show biz.

Cully:You get to wear shorts, drive around with the door open. It's perfect in this fucking heat.

Larry:I noticed that the armrest was missing and the seats were very, uh, sticky.

Larry:No one else has ever sat behind the wheel of my bentley except for the 3 previous owners and now... our cully.

Cully:Yeah, especially since I drove my shitbox into the bus shelter.

Larry:That b-12 shot's doing no good whatsoever. Actually, maybe I should get a shot in each cheek, because one half of my ass feels like it's alive and rarin' to go and the other half feels depressed... and lonely.

Larry:Just look at kiefer sutherland.

Larry:Tell him I'm uncomfortable around new people... that you don't like anyone who's younger than you, that you're still mad about that 'queer's delight' crack.

Cully:With me gone, he'll have you all to himself.

Artie:Why, because cully hasn't learned how to kiss ass yet like everybody else around here?

Larry:I just wanted my frozen yogurt frozen, that's all.

Larry King:I can see this is a double Larry day.

Larry:In the name of the sweet baby Jesus, why am I so fat?

Cully:Really? Thanks for telling me, because I wouldn't know what a magazine is. I'm a moron.

Look, I'm sorry that you're a 50-year-old p.a., but that's not really my fault.

Artie:Not after you stabbed the great one with a fork!

Cully:I was 6 years old. He was comin' at me.

Cully:Parr, gleason, cavett, and now Larry. It's always the same. Larry, a guy who's so limp, he's like a fucking sock.

Artie:Don't you dare call Larry a sock!

Larry:Maybe he'll get that job at ups that he wanted.

Cully:I saw them my first day on the job. I saw the package. I said, 'let me take this to Larry personally.' I spaced. I left it in the trunk of the car.

Larry:Isn't tampering with the mail a felony?

Beverly:Yeah, well, he's Artie's son.