I am in a fantastic mood tonight. I’m wearing a new perfume that I should recommend to the women in the audience. It’s called ‘Tester.’

You’ll be so fat after Thanksgiving you’ll need license plates for your shoes.

Yo’ Mama is so fat, she made the centerfold in Mountain Climber Magazine.

You’ll be so fat after Thanksgiving next time you wear leather pants to a party, people will sit on your booty thinking it’s a couch.

Yo’ Mama is so fat, she got hit by a monster truck and said, “Who pushed me?”

I got hearing aids; I don’t wear ’em. Six hundred fifty bucks for those things — there isn’t anything anybody can tell me, that I don’t already know, that’s worth $650.

Women, stop buying the lingerie. Stop buying it right now. Oh, it’s a big rip off. Oh my god, $18 bucks for panties this big? Come on, one trip through the dryer, and it’s a frilly bookmark.

You’ll be so fat after Thanksgiving you’ll have to iron your pants on the driveway.

You’ll be so fat after Thanksgiving, the highway department will make you wear an “Oversize Load” sign every time you take a walk.

We’re Scottish — that’s why I have a big-ass head, little wienie. It’s a curse. I’m hung like a field mouse in a snow blizzard.