“Oh my glob!”
“Your failures and your faults, they stick with you. They glob into ugly, cancerous growths inside you and make you want to die.”
“You ignorant little slug!" the Trunchbull bellowed. "You witless weed! You empty-headed hamster! You stupid glob of glue!”
“It’s no fun picking on you Louis; you’re so guilty, it’s like throwing darts at a glob of jello, there’s no satisfying hits, just quivering, the darts just blop in and vanish.”
“Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling porcupine," she crooned. "Little critters fried like fritters come out crunchy and divine.”
“Here's all she had to say about death: "Oh my, oh my.”