S3E7: Lethal Weapons
Excuse me, New Yorker.
I think you're in my seat,
and I had sex with your mother last night.
Peter, are you crazy?
What did you say?
Oh, About the seat, or about my plowing your father's wife?
What the hell are you doing?
Excuse me. Is your refrigerator running?
Because if it is, it probably runs like you.