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You're busting my balls here, Loke. My balls. Are busted. Send Nessa. The medical bills.

I knew there was a reason you're my partner-in-crime, man. I say we need to hunt them down, dude, and give them a real make-over. 1985 all the way, dude! I'll tease the shit out of that little prisses hair, and show Clinton the proper way to accesorize with a blunt and some sleeveless shirts. It's bringing a tear to my eye, thinking about it, man. I'm crying, I'm so happy.

[EDWARDINA]
Strippers, man? Really? I think we're a bit classier than that, around these parts. And I was thinking we could do this with as little bloodshed as possible... Besides, we can always just do a reprise of your cross-dressing days from high school. It may have been Halloween, but the pictures don't lie. You make a damn good woman, Edward Loke.

I was thinking more along the lines of just some beer, a couple of celebratory stogies and your future brother-in-law says he can get his hands on some bagpipes. If that doesn't spell party, man, I don't know what does.

Over my dead body, dude.