Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

I'm sorry, Nance. Are you fucking insane?
We're looking down a long road here, Mrs. Hodes.
- Fuck you. I love my son. - Oh, sorry, of course you do.
What are those lines?
- Pay you? - That is what I'm doing.
- This is so not over. - I'm sorry, sir. I did like your pompom hat.
You'll get a full diagnostic report from the doctor.
And why the fuck are you stalking me?
I have to sit down.
but now I'm thinking it's because you're a crazy, stalker, narcissist whack job.
Sign your name.
Come on! Move it!
- I'm not gonna answer that. - It might be important.
Don't be too flexy. We start with people we've dealt to before
I'm in the middle of explaining this to you.
He's gonna be all right, though, right?
I would hope that my children could learn from my mistakes.
She's all yours.
OK, I'm gonna go smack my kid and take him to the shrink.
I can't understand anything that you're say... Stop crying.
Shane went. I don't know if it did anything.
At her youth group. She's coming by later.
Don't you remember I wore that pompom hat the other day?
Oh, hey, erm...
Will you drop the Steel Magnolias bit? He's still breathing.
Poor guy. Poor wrecked guy.
- I'm tense. - Ooh, you want a massage?
Stop!