Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

And my ancestors and I take full credit for crucifying that Christ putz.
...when he was getting a hummer from some dude. Lip.
All right, I got you.
Right over there, Carl. Turn it around.
Yeah, for a few hours. Not overnight.
Billy Elliot cornholing the father of my children.
Vodka, codeine, ecstasy, PCP and sleeping pills, with a Drano chaser.
Ian?
You okay to drive?
Another cool thing about hotels is that you don't have to saw your own meat.
...making everyone get their dicks cut.
You're gonna wanna check his pockets before you go.
Guess who's supporting them. Me. My taxes.
Can you come here for a second, honey?
Something tells me yours has too many miles on it.
Yeah. Here's your chance.
Never use their names again.
Hungry?
I made it.
- He did. He offed himself. OD'd. - Yeah? What'd he take?
To get high
But no touching the forbidden fruit until I'm knocked up.
- A wife, kid, you name it. - Nightmare.
He needs me.
- Ready? Lift. - Lift.
You know, a lot of those foster kids are messed up.
Four cameras. Every square inch covered.
Out of my way. I buried two husbands.
...and you slowly Jew me down to an unacceptable number.
It's like they come out of the womb wearing a suicide vest, am I right, ha, ha?
- Uh-huh. That sounds just like me. - I know, right?
Fiona's a 'hood girl, not a debutante from Glencoe.
I need a man's suit. Something dark.
Where does that leave me?