“Yeah, yeah… I like it… now lift up your hips… watch out for the lava lamp… Yvette, move your hair out of the way… good… good… now Lamont, get in there… no, I don’t care where, just get in there.”
“So it’s a pact — if we’re not married by the time we’re 40 then we’ll marry each other.”
“Wait. I thought we agreed that if we weren’t married we’d just kill ourselves.”
“Dang it, Louise! Pull your shoulders back! You’ve looked like a sea cow in every picture so far.”
“Mr. Davis. With all due respect, all of candidates can type 70 words per minute — but only one of them can twitch his pectoral muscles independently of one another.”
Pic courtesy of Jamie.
“You know what they say, don’t you?”
“What’s that?”
“Boys don’t make pargyles at boys who wear argyle.”
“What does that even mea–”
“Shut up, you!”
“Guess who got a ‘meets expectations’ on his performance evaluation! Oh yeah!”
