Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Hiccups.
- Oh, hi. - Hey.
I told you, you can't call him every time any little thing comes up.
Um, well, if we can't make it one day, we got real problems, my friend.
You thought he was still a lawyer.
- No, I didn't. - That's okay. I have forgiven you.
I know!
I seem to remember someone bringing his security blanket to college.
Rossie? We're ready for you.
Well, how far outside?
I can't believe I'm doing this with you.
I know it must be important to you when you start chattering like a monkey.
Ugh, it's impossible to find a good doctor.
- From school. - We met in college.
No, that's not what I meant. Let's get you a cocktail.
- Really? - Yeah, you're my husband.
My name is Mike. And I do play piano.
- So tell me something about my guy. - No.
- What's the matter, Joe? - I'm mad at you for leaving.
Aw, that's so sweet. Did you find anything?
It's gonna be tough to keep kosher in Tulsa.
He is a brilliant diagnostician!
- Diagnostician or boo-boo fixer? - Mm.
Shh, I'm on the phone! Dr. Wiener?
Here you go, Rach.
You know, come to think of it, it does feel rubella-like.
So the other three, I can be here with you.
(Snaps Fingers)
And, uh, you're thinking of taking it?
No. Slim Pickins. It's a barbecue joint.
Okay, well... Bye, Mon.
Because I love him.