Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Everything is a metaphor.

FAB, stands for fresh active BNA.

He's got a funny face. I like your face.

Well, you come by it honestly, the ugliness inside you.

- Oh. Sorry. - Hey, who's this guy?

That's what your face should be saying to everyone you pass on the street.

I don't care if you are happy or not.

You're not so bad yourself, Rutabaga, for a 26er.

The hill is a metaphor.

You know, the man sitting next to me was wearing a T-shirt?

Talk my way into a job at a textile plant?

- I just got married, and-- - Diane.

Oh, right, the underwear guy.

My wife is making me go to the opera tonight.

That was it. Say that again.

Is that to impress me? I can smash a dinner plate, too.

- I can change and I will change. - Louder.

The things I said to you.

Uh, someone named BoJark Hoseman is here?

I didn't think I could do it, but I did it.

- Untranslated -

- Who are you? - Anyway, we gotta get to work.

Hey, Secretariat.

Yes. I am a writer. What do you need?

What are you doing here?

I value you. Hashtag "thank you for being a friend."

I'm here, aren't I? I suffered through that ordeal.

Underwear model/actor/dancer/dreamer.

Because they can't.

And I realized, "I can wallow in this hole or I can change."

You have two days. Maybe you could hire an acting coach.