Carmen: Are you coming down? The Joker.
Carmen: It's MY pen, don't write so hard.
Carmen: Is that the Special Olympics soundtrack?
Carmen: Whoa. Oh no. Okay. Hey. What gives? Stop. Popcorn. The popcorn is handicapped.
Carmen: Can we go get celery?
Vicki, as Saionji: IM IN UR GARDEN. SLAPPIN UR BRIDEZ.
Carmen: My legs are dead. I'm Terry Fox. I'm going to go swimming.
Vicki: Something like a mahna mahma, too too-too-too-too.
Vicki: If I'm not thrusting, I'm gyrating...
Vicki: Lum lum yunch!
Vicki: That's like Marge and Edith Bunker combined.
Vicki: Hey, fuckbutt.
Vicki: 40 day rule! If it's not green, it's still good!
Devon: That guy's as sharp as a wet Corn Flake.
Nathan: All padded bras, get rid of 'em.
Vicki: Run and turd! Nnngh!
Vicki: Do you know what we should do one time?
Vicki: That's not real music!
Andy: If your cat is retarded, do you get a parking sign?
Carmen: *plays Jamiroquai*
Vicki: Why are you doing this to me?
Vicki: That dog doesn't look Mexican at all.
Carmen: Where's my battle muffin?
Vicki: I have a berret. I'm French :P I have bug eyes. I'm wearing a boat neck t-shirt.
Ryan: Fucking Professor Carmen San Diego.
Carmen: What's that smell?
Vicki: That's the smell of me losing brain cells.
Ben: No team meeting for you for one year!
Andy: Make like a tree and fuck off.
Ben: Error buffet.
Devon: Let me see, when I was in grades 6 through 8, I had French everything. Math, Science, English... ...well... not English.
Vicki: Bitch ditch.
Vicki: You dance like a jerk.
Vicki: I'M GONNA MAKE A COOOOOW!!!
Vicki: I wanted them to fly out in a bra-like frenzy.
Vicki: I turned down the volume so I could smell better.
Val: I win @ grade 12.
Vicki: Excuse me, ma'am, we're going to have to confiscate your pomade.
Vicki: You didn't even try on your brizzas.
Vicki: It's not about being clever and clit-witted.
Vicki: You have a little squishy head ^0^
Carmen: YOUR BOWELS ARE EVACUATING!
Vicki: YOU WANTED IT ROUGH.
Vicki: WANG!!!
Val: And by 'wang' I mean 'whoa'.
Vicki: I feel like something in my nose is on fire.
Carmen: That makes it sound like you have a few things in your nose and one of them might be on fire.
Vicki: Carmen Roy, closed captioned for the hearing impaired.
Vicki: I can taste SARS.
Val: Jésus t'écoeure.
Carmen: Wanna buy this car? ;D
Bobert: Why yes. Your smile tells me I can trust you. Because liars are ugly.
Val, imitating GBB: "LET ME ON OR I'LL STAB YOU AND FUCK YOUR SHIT UP" "...........................2$."
Val: C'est pas statique, des chiens.
Vicki: Sorry I was burgling.
Vicki: Crotchface!
Grampy: She's gross.
Carmen: What was that noise?
Vicki: That was the sound of my shit hitting your door.
Vicki: STOP SAYING YELLOW!!!
Vicki: I'm a keener. What's a keener? Suck my weiner. ("Seriously, what's a keener?")
Nathan: A can with a hole in it would have been better.
Vicki: I farted. It was like a thousand chickens clucking in my butt.
Vicki: That's a boobie trap. Don't put your boobie in there.
Vicki: You're doing the Queen Elizabeth.
Vicki: Panniezzzzz!
Carmen: I, er, uh, faated.
Vicki: I, er, uh, good onnne.
Vicki: DANGER WILL ROBINSON Yellow. By Crayola.
Andy: APPARENTLY the cold has made my water turn into a solid.
Ben: How the Grinch Stole Your Job.
Josh: Don't make fun of stupid people, my MOM is stupid!
Andy: If I wanted your opinion, I'd kill ya!
Devon: My family tree goes in a circle!
Carmen: Barb is like, "Whut up, yo."
Cheryl: Yes. Barb is always saying that. That and "Good morning.".
Carmen: The cats are on me so I can't go check on supper. Argh.
Josh: It's too late for supper.
Carmen: It's second supper.
Josh: Sounds like a painting.
Carmen: You drink with your pinkie up. ^.^
Nathan: I'll drink with my penis up. Your bum.
Jared: I suffered from premature evacuation.
Carmen: You think it's the middle of the day, but no! Surprise! Overtime! Suicide! Cyanide pill, you say?
Felicia: Shot in the face, anyone?
Carmen: I'm lost. And there are wolves.
Josh: And the wolves have guns.
Jared: 1 + 1 = red :D
Carmen: She's bi.
Jared: So she's bi-flexible.
Paul: Don't you work around here?
Felicia: No. What are you, a TL?
Paul: No, I'm a TA.
Felicia: Oh. What's that mean? I'll make one up for you. Tight Ass.
Susan: That's not what his boyfriend said.