Ron &Amp; Tammy: Part Two

It's Not the Size of the Boat: Embracing Life with a Micro-Penis

Tammy. My ex-wife Tammy likes to check in every so often and make sure I'm doing okay. And if I am, she tries to [bleep] everything up.

If she binds your hands and you can't reach your phone, just try to chew yourself free.

Whale tale. Whale tale. She's flashing a whale tale. Abort. Abort.

I was just checking myself for scoliosis. - And? - Straight as an arrow. Just like somebody else I know.

Oh, my God, she's amazing.

A lovely, intelligent, self-possessed pediatric surgeon named Wendy. - Sounds like a real whore.

Good day, Leslie. - Good... good day.

Wow, don't be such a Jerry, Ben.

Yeah, Ben, these guys are cops, not ballerinas.

Calzones are like pizzas but they're harder to eat. They're dumb and so was that idea. - Seriously? - This is embarrassing for you.

So all I can think about is Captain Mustache plowing my ex-wife. - And you imagine he's wearing a cape while he's plowing her?

You want five million orange post-its.

They're getting really old and I'm an only child.

A companion. - Hey, I don't suppose you'd want to move to Canada? - Canada. No, I don't suppose I would.

She made me this tiny sharpened stick.

Look, I'm gonna tell you what I tell all my girlfriends when they get dumped. Men are dogs. - That does not apply to this situation at all.

Calzones. - What the hell is wrong with this guy?

I know Tammy seems scary. But really, she's just a manipulative, psychotic, library-book-pedaling, sex-crazed she-demon.

I was just tasting my new boyfriend, Glenn. - Tom.

Verbal altercation transpired at approximately 8:55 P.M. with a female unsub. Appears to be slightly intoxicated. Claims to be an ex-spouse. Real piece of work.

Ron's got one just like it on his penis.

Hi, Ann. This is April. I'm just calling to let you know that Chris can't make lunch today. I knew you wouldn't care. Good-bye.

It rubbed off... From friction.

You have been spending the last 24 hours sipping on joy juice and tripping on Tammy.

I would like to address the goofy-looking, dirty-kimono-wearing, corn-rowed clown in the room.

I hate you like my actual brother, Levondrious, who I hate.

Ron, I do not really understand what is going on right now. But no matter what, you must keep going. No. You must stop. I love you, buddy. Follow your dreams.

If you're watching this, it means that once again you have danced with the devil.

So you have two choices... One, get rid of Tammy, or two, lobotomy and castration.

In fact, she's ovulating. So if you'll excuse us, we're heading off on our honeymoon.

We bought 10 cases of Gatorade and a 40-pound bag of peanuts for energy.

Love, Bert Macklin, FBI.

You mean, like calzone-sized? - Ah! Sure.

Tammy Swanson Swanson.

When I asked her to be my date, she cackled for a full minute and said, and I quote, 'anything to make Ron miserable.'

Why are you hitting yourself, Glenn? Stop hitting yourself.

Oh, and by the way, last night, I faked four out of the seven. - Hmm. So did I.

There's a really great calzone place over in Idiotville. - Oh, really? - Down on Terrible Idea Avenue.

Calzones are pointless. They're just pizza that's harder to eat. No one likes them. Good day, sir. - Leslie, I... you know, I... - I'm just kidding. Let's go.

Tom, women like scars. Shows you survived an attack, and they'll assume the attack was from a man.