Alan, you're driving an expensive red sports car. If you're not getting tickets and tail you might as well take the bus... which, by the way, just passed us.
Yeah. Forever and ever. My favorite was, "They must have mixed you up with another baby 'cause I could never have given birth to such a hateful child." Who writes that on a fifth grader's birthday card?
Alan
Oh, how about, "It's no wonder your father doesn't come home from work. If I could get out of here, I would, too."
Did I ever tell you about the time I wrote my first jingle for a national commercial? Pepsi. I invited Mom over to watch the prime-time network debut. For thirty seconds, 20 million people were listening to my music, and then at the end, Mom turned to me and said, "You couldn't get Coke to hire you?"
It's the day of my wedding, right? And she's sitting there crying and I think it's because she's happy. Turns out it was, and I quote, "so relieved you finally found someone who could love you."
Well, there's a Roles Royce in the drive way, [pull out silk leggings] and I found this hanging on the mailbox, so I'm guessing that your brother has some bimbo upstairs and Norman here is her daddy or her sugar daddy.
Look at me, Charlie! I have abrasions, contusions, a severely sprained neck, two fractured fingers, and I'm hopped up on pain pills. Does that spell "weekend dad" to you?
[after Evelyn introduced the still-injured Alan to Mona]
MMona
What happened to you?
Alan
I was fixing a satellite dish and I fell off the roof.
MMona
Well, why didn't you just call the guy?
Alan
You wanna know why I didn't call the guy? I'll tell you why I didn't call the guy. BECAUSE YOU DON'T NEED TO CALL THE GUY! It's a simple adjustment that any idiot can do, and yes, I know this idiot fell off the roof, but it was after I fixed it all by myself, NO GUY!
I just have to accept the fact that I-- I can't count on anyone, least of all an emotionally immature narcissist who thinks that the sun rises out of his navel and sets in his scrotum, and only cares about what lies between the two.
OK, OK, I had hoped that we could have a spirited exchange of ideas here, but if we are going to just degenerate into name calling, perhaps we should wait for the principal to decide what a reasonable punishment for my son would be.
MMindy
[Barbara Schmidt's busty mother] Fine. We'll let the principal decide.
[The principal, another large-breasted woman, enters the hall from her office]
PPrincipal
I'm Principal Gallagher.
Alan
[defeated] Oh, God, my boy's going to get the chair.