Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

It's not that we don't get on. It's just that we think differently.
Who knows my body better than I do?
A damn good sport.
I figured that would be the third thing to go.
Finally, one year, I couldn't make it without stopping.
I can't stand it much longer.
How about a nice glass of lemonade?
I don't think I can go without physical activity for a week.
- That's it? - I promise to write more often.
You've embarrassed me, your mother, our friends.
Don't thank me, thank my grandson.
Oh, excuse me, I didn't see you.
Oh, my God. Is that what I have to look forward to, 15 years from now?
Dorothy, we've always had our differences.
They're both real smart and they've got big ears, so don't get technical, OK?
I wanna be able to share my deepest, darkest secrets with you.
I may not remember what it feels like, but I remember what it looks like.
The only white boy from Brooklyn who could scat.
- I call her a tramp. - What?
You look great. I'm glad to see you. I've missed you.
After last night, he doesn't exist.
- I'll do that. - No, you won't.
- I owe you an apology. - I owe you one.
- That's right. - Oh, girls.
You ungrateful brat, how could you do this to me?
I'll get changed. Bridget's taking me to the House of Fabrics for the felt sale.
Dorothy, you must help me. Do something.
Maybe you're all friends again, but not me.
- This is my daughter, Bridget. - Hello.
He's a musician in New York. He hasn't time to write.
I failed to listen to my children.
Couldn't we just wear matching outfits?
Thank God this is over. I couldn't see a thing through this crap.
But I thought the job was till the end of summer.
- Grandma, listen... - You, listen.