Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

You're right. This is serious.
I'm a manager. Nobody cares what the fuck I look like.
And we got married. And then we had sex.
Gavin, this is Susie Myerson.
during my "Is this a dagger which I see before me?" speech.
my dashing friend: Shy Baldwin.
You smelled Kim Novak?
and he rolled a seven, so you kind of did.
Where'd I put my robe?
Ready, drivers?!
And it's not for making yourself feel bad
- Come on, chop-chop. - I am.
But does she ever dab her lipstick at Zabars?
- I didn't know you were here. - I'm not.
That was dumb.
Okay, but let me just explain.
It's supposed to rain on Thursday.
- I won't. - Or Archie. Or anyone.
Hard eight!
I see.
How? He's British!
Tidiness makes things look bigger.
Here...
No. Arch, take a night off every once in a while.
You had your laughs.
of Susie Myerson and Associates.
And having Ethan help him.
No, no, no.
♪ Tell me what ♪
- I got married. - Wait. What?
How do you know?
Just sits on your face, like a French whore?
It's supposed to be fabulous. I can do Thursday morning.
And I never miss The Today Show.
♪ I like the way you smile at me ♪
He always said if you want to kill someone,
Guilt is big with us,
Leaves you a free man.
- You ever been robbed? - Here you go.
you're not a vehicle. You're expendable.
The lights are already on! Geez!
As if Reggie would let me.
♪ You think of me. ♪
No one at the moment.
Thanks, Billy.
- against his own client. - Call the bastard back.
- and your wonky toilet. - Okay, fine.
Imogene taught him that song. He's very proud.
-The hell is this? -Let's go, Bernie. -No, guys.
So, your girl.
I get up at 4:30 every day.
How about coming out to Vegas?
Joel.
Hello.
Nope. I've got my Vegas set now,
Lovin' this Vegas weather.
Kill me o'clock.
Work, work, work.
You told me I could park in the driveway.
- Look at 'em go! - Like a rocket!
Slow down, and let's see where this goes.
Not really an answer to my question.
It's for making someone else feel bad
Privacy curtain. Unbelievable.
We can go downtown, Abe,
- ♪ H-I-J-K ♪ - 7:30. Can you believe it?
It's just a little early for such a strong smell.
Oh, my God, Imogene would die if she was here.
Shit.
- You said the name. - Macbeth?
Track's clear.
He lives in New York. What...
- Yup. - Oh. I look like the Bride of Frankenstein.
They have a monkey... J. Fred Muggs.
Killing the milkman.
-No, it's okay! -Bring him here! I want to show him!
Little something for the boys.
- We've got to go. - ♪ And your tummy... ♪
Look, this is just another part of a manager's job.
Waiting for a liquor license miracle.
You want the napkin?
You would be a terrific anchor.
Holy shit, you put in a bidet.
And one of us may have to peel off early.
- You're not joking? - I'm not joking.
Midge, come on.
Now sit, relax and let it work its magic.
Imogene must be having a fit.
Never. Come on, get in here, you.
I said I wouldn't say.
- Jean. - It's big enough to draw a name?
Your voice is all high. Why's your voice all high?
Yeah, I've seen your résumés.