Andrew Dice Clay



Andrew Dice Clay (born Andrew Clay Silverstein; September 29, 1957) is an American stand-up comedian, actor, musician and producer.

Dice Rules (1991)

 * When you jerk off, you’re saying “Hey, I care about me.”


 * What am I looking at? I want to eat you like a tossed fucking salad!


 * I like a bush. A nice big, hairy, stinky, smelly fucking bush. And I hate when they put cologne on it. They dummy it up with cologne like you don’t know where you are. I like that nice natural scent of salmon.


 * Korean delis, Indian newsstands, Greek diners, and ass-fuckin' parties every night of the week! That's New York; how are ya?!


 * How come there's no parking for midgets? You ever notice that? Not one spot in the fucking mall for midgets. Unbelievable. You want to know why? 'Cause there's no telethon for midgets. Nobody gives a fuck. The kind of humidity you get in Manhattan during the summer... by the time you even get to the front doors of the mall, they're passing out. You've got to piss on them to revive them. And I love midgets with those pumpkin heads, little bug legs. I never fucked one, I'll admit that. But I would do it. They're people. So they're a little light, all right. So, so you stick 'em on your dick, you can shave, shower, they don't get in the way. You throw 'em in a drawer when you're done. "Yeah, use my socks as a pillow honey." "Wait, a mouse went under the table, get the fucker." Could you imagine being a maitre d at a fancy restaurant and a couple midgets come in for dinner? What do you say? “Table for, ugh, I don't know, fuck, three quarters?" Midgets, man. What do they do when a midget is missing? Put 'em on the back of a container of Half & Half?"


 * You ever date a chick with a hunch-fucking-back? I did. I’m in a grocery store with this chick, the security guards were all over her, because they thought she was trying to smuggle a turkey under the back of her fucking jacket. I had a hunch. I had a hunch they’d stop her with that bad fucking back. They should have a telethon for hunchbacks. That’s- that’s what I think. They bring ‘em out on a string like a pack of camels. [mimics a hunchback walking] “Bump be dump bump.” I think something could be done. Chip the fucking thing off. You ever date a chick with buck-fucking-teeth and a hunch-fucking-back? Huh? Oh, just trying to talk to a bucktooth fucking chick is incredible. [Forces his mouth into an overbite] “Hey. You want to go to a movie?” “Shut up stupid! Pop the cork on this bottle.” And to make love to a chick with buck-fucking-teeth and a hunch-fucking-back is a complete horror show. You’re in bed with them and it’s like you’re on a seesaw. You know what I’m saying? They’re like [forces his mouth into an overbite again] “Ugh, it feels so good. It feels so good.” “Shut up!”


 * You know, a lot of guys, you know like, what I'll do, you know, especially in New York - out in L.A., they don't have a subway system. But here they do, and a lot of people don't like it, but I know how to use the subway system. Like, I'll set my alarm clock for 8 o'clock - 'cause I don't even have a day job; this is what I do, you know - but I'll get on those rush-hour trains at 8 o'clock for that 8 o'clock grind...you're passin' every chick in the train, you got your dick lodged behind 400 asses before you hit DeKalb Avenue...you drop a load, you turn around, you're back in bed before 9 o'clock, your day has started.


 * Go ahead, marry her. Don't marry her, man. How do you know where she's been? Huh! How do you know she's not the biggest fucking whore to ever walk this fucking town, man? I went with this one girl, she was such a fucking tramp, I had to double park my dick on her ass and wait an hour to get in. It's unfuckingbelievable, I'm telling ya.


 * [to a fan that called out to him] What'd you yell out?...Mother Goose. So what you're saying is you wanna review 1989?