In our house, it’s more like: “Clover! Haven’t you worn humpybear out yet?” She doesn’t look guilty when she’s done, though.
Just a few minutes ago: “Why are you eating your claw clippings? Big old dumb cattopotamus!”
“It’s time for you to get your balls cut off.”
Give me the ball. No, let go, let go!
Why do you always have to sniff my butt when I change my pants?
Is that where you’re going to sleep? Where am I going to sleep? I don’t think we can sleep like that. Mommy’s going to move you now. Ok? Is it ok if I move you? Here we go, gonna move that butt…
“Stop licking yourself! Stop! Leave it! Now!”
Never works. At least it’s mostly a paw thing.
It’s a good thing I’m not at work right now. My sides hurt now.
"Move, buttlickers!’
(like every other woman) “Ow! Those are my boobs! Get off!”
“Stop sniffing his butt!”
“You little pervert, stop crawling into my pants” (While I’m in the shower)
Shouldn’t we have pics?
“Get out from under the table!”
“Quit following me around!”
Quit howling at me, I live here.
Ladies, Please!
(The cats are playing, “I’m On The Bed And You’re Not” at 6:00 A.M.)
How long are you going to keep on digging in your cat litter box? Enough, already; your shit is safely buried now. Who do you think you are, the army Corps of Engineers?
As said to Bernie a few minutes ago:
“No thumbsies, no typesies. Now get off the keyboard.”
Get in your cage, and I’ll give you a treat!
It’s hard to rub your belly when you’re beating me across the face with your tail.
Like with one above, depends on the dating site. 
Okay then, this one may be site-dependent too. But Og knows I say it enough:
“For heaven’s sake, stop being so jealous! Both of you can sleep in bed with me at the same time, you know.”
Or: “You’re never going to reach China or any other land, you know…you can stop now.” 
“Aaaaw, lookit them pretty little turdies!”
“Go ahead, nibble my eyebrows, see if *I *care.”
“Hey cutie – hop on!”
“Marcus just scared himself away. Can’t you do that?”