“I gotta take the big WHAT? I gotta take the big POOP! I GOTTA TAKE THE BIG POOP! I GOTTA TAKE THE BIG POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP” —Roomie, announcing that he is going to go use the restroom.
“akka akka akka AKKA AKKA AKKA AKKA AKKA” —Roomie, quoting Mars Attacks
“Man, you look like, like…some sorta Snoop Dogg-ass nigga.” —Roomie, complimenting a friend on his choice of hats
“Two students! Two measly little students! What?! That can’t be. That CAN’T be.” —Roomie, expressing surprise at how many people showed up for Basket Weaving 101.
“Hold on, hold on, hold on. Lemme just… I wanna ask you a serious, honest-to-god question here. I’m legitimately curious about this. Just answer honestly. I just wanna ask…Are you never gonna get any better at this game, dog? Like, have you hit your peak? Is this the best you can do?” —Roomie, telling a friend that it might be time to put down the controller and play a different game.
“Shots, shots, shots, shots…errybooody…DICKS, DICKS, DICKS, DICKS, DICKS DICKS, ERRYBOOOODY. ERRYBOOOODY.” —Roomie, getting fucked up
“Let’s GOOO! Let’s GOOO! Yeah, what a BEEEAST! YEEAARHH! WHAT A BEEEEAST!” —Roomie, rooting for his team in Madden.
“Man, it’s just that, you know, getting shot with BIG BLACK GUNS, you know, overwhelms me a bit, you know? Like, they’re just spraying all over me, and, man, there are so many bullets in my ass…” —Roomie, making a sexual joke, in case you didn’t catch it
“I’m gonna PISS in his SOUP.” —Roomie, explaining why he would be a terrible waiter.
“The reason you get high is like, uh, it gives you extra dopamine, and extra dopamine causes schizophrenia, dog, so like, if you get high, you get schizophrenia, dog.” —Roomie, discouraging his friend from taking a walk with Mary Jane.
“The fuck did you say? You’re gonna suck the milk out of my titties? That’s mad queer Clayton.” —Roomie, expressing his discomfort with his friend’s forwardness.
“Good shit, Pierre Garcon! Good shit!” —Roomie, learning French.
“*singing* I’m gonna poooop on your cheeeeeeest” —Roomie, lamenting that he never got past the auditioning round in American Idol.
“Get back in the kitchen, woman, and MAKE ME A SANDWICH!…No I’m not fucking with you! I’m hungry, you’re a woman, WHAT’S MISSING?” —Roomie, showing that yes, this kind of person still exists and no, he wasn’t even being ironic about it.
“Fuck, man! What the fuck, nigga? Damn, nigga! What the fuck are you talking about? I’ve been using specialist for maybe four ye- GO BACK GO BACK GO BACK. What the fuck, man? What the fuck, nigga? What are you TALKING about? Fuck, man! Shit! The fuck you MEAN, dog?” —Roomie, in a deep state of confusion.
“I understand what you’re trying to say now. I understand what you’re trying to say. I understa- yeah, that’s right dog, haha. I understand what you’re trying to say. I get it now. I get it, dog, I understand.” —Roomie, reaching enlightenment.
“God FOR FUCK’S SAKE, I CAN’T TELL YOU WHAT THE PATCH DID AND PLAY THE GAME AT THE SAME TIME. I CAN’T FUCKING CONCENTRATE, DOG. …Fine. Fine. Fucking fine. The patch did, uh, uh, some, uh…IT DID SOME SHIT, ALRIGHT, DOG? THE PATCH DID SOME FUCKING SHIT.” —Roomie, practicing his multitasking skills.
“BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY…hahaha, you know what i mean, BOOTYBOOTYBOOTYBOOTYBOOTY” —Roomie’s friend, BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY BOOTY ROCKIN EVERYWHERE
“Fucking come for me, bitch. Come for me.” —Roomie, saying something that makes sense in context but is still kind of funny anyway.
“What are we doing? Um…masturbating. What are you doing? …Stuns or flashes?” —Roomie, pioneering sexual openness in his group of friends.