Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Tastes like loss.
All right, here we go. Tchotchkes missing.
You like costume play?
Then my idiot ex-husband had an accident...
Okay, well, she's almost a dude.
- I'm telling you, she hates dogs. - She doesn't really have a dog.
- Shame on you. - Listen, I'm still unclear.
Okay. See that?
Mr. Wilson?
Oh, Celia scares me.
I'm not ready to make that judgment until she's past puberty.
Think it could be good.
- Shut up. - Be quiet.
- You're an animal. - Every year, every year.
Who the fuck is here? I've got a vicious dog.
I think that's offensive to Texans.
Sorry about that. My phone battery conked out around Oceanside.
Mexicate Cartel, they got one through 323.
I hadn't counted on the dying woman in the living room, but --
Len, your mother is dying.
See, he looks like my side of the family.
Hello, Len.
Old people creep me out.
Not-Francie can sleep in Bubbie's room.
Because you'd only call me Not-Francie.
Get into something crazy like a donkey show.
Beautiful, tiny hands that bring sight to the blind.
...about how long this heartwarming family reunion's gonna last.
I'm opening up a club. Heylia's Compassionate Care.
It's the drug business. It's dangerous.