Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

You're our foreman, Maude.
I didn't have a crush on her.
He can't look anywhere without being reminded of Maude.
Ned, I'm worried about you. You've been working nonstop for the past week.
Christ be with you!
You can have these, uh, fireworks I confiscated.
Lay some heaven on me, foxy dead chick.
All you do is change "Jesus" to "baby."
You're doing that the sucker way.
This sawdust'll soak up the puke from the roller coaster.
Ah, ah!
Well, Maude, your dream has finally come true.
Oh, my. The room looks so bare.
No, I don't mind, but my greenback stack's gettin' kind of slack.
Are you nuts?
visions, miracles or other godly hoo-ha.
So, uh, where's your band?
- There's nothing here. - Exactly.
Nah, I'm just screwin' with ya. It's a miracle.
How about that? It says "Maude."
Any religion that embraces carob is, uh, not for Carl Carlson.
and of course, Freon so cold it burns me.
I see.
He can't admit he likes her till he's sure she likes him back.