My perfect date night: I pick you up. In my Kia Sorrento. You get in. There's candles in the car. You go 'Is that dangerous?" and I go, Yes... but I like danger. We go to your favorite restaurant, and we have a fantastic meal. We come outside and we see my cars on fire. You go, "Aziz, your cars on fire. Aren't you upset?" I pull out a bag of marshmallows and I go, No. I knew this was gonna happen. And then I kiss you. In front of my burning car.
Yes, I’m married. But my wife understands that a good politician has to be appealing to the ladies. The fact that I haven’t even gotten close to cheating on her is a disappointment to us both.
Zerts’ are what I call desserts. ‘Trée-trées’ are entrées. I call sandwiches ‘sammies,’ ‘sandoozles,’ or ‘Adam Sandlers.’ Air conditioners are ‘cool blasterz’ with a ‘z’ - I don’t know where that came from. I call cakes ‘big ol’ cookies.’ I call noodles ‘long-ass rice.’ Fried chicken is ‘fry-fry chicky-chick.’ Chicken parm is ‘chicky-chicky-parm-parm.’ Chicken cacciatore? ‘Chicky-cacc.’ I call eggs ‘pre-birds,’ or ‘future birds.’ Root beer is ‘super water.’ Tortillas are ‘bean blankets.’ And I call forks ‘food rakes.’