Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

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