Pseudo-New Yorker

Legal humor here.

“This turkey doesn’t belong in the barnyard. This turkey belongs on Broadway, and that’s where she’s going. Pardon my sequins.”

“If it can work for those kids on Glee, it can work for me. I’m tired of pecking for worms.”

“Legs this pretty are too pretty to eat, you know what I’m saying?”

“If you buy me a drink you can stare all you want. Otherwise, move it along.”

“Yes, my feet are killing me, but they’re also killing you—killing you with fashion.”

“Because I’ve learned to love myself, that’s why. I’ve had it with all that Puritan crap, and if you had half a mind, you’d feel the same way too.”

“No, it’s a club called “the Barnyard.” I’m sorry, but I don’t think you should even try to keep up. This is way too meta for the likes of you.”

“I’m not rejecting your values, I’m transcending them.”

“Seriously, there was the “Turkey Trot” and then what? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. That’s going to change.”

“Support? Honey, I don’t need support. I need attention.”