Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Goodnight, Mom. I'm staying here tonight. I'm too stoned to drive home.
Brian. I'm Brianna.
- In case you need surgery. - What would I need surgery for?
- That he's not gay. - Ha!
What's wrong with you people? Back up! Back up!
It's an edible suicide note.
What? Why?
You never know these days!
Jeez.
A dating site? Me? Oh, God.
I went to the cafeteria to get pudding.
- (Yells) - Ah! No!
- I thought you left me. - No! Why would I do that?
Last I heard, he's in a wheelchair. Minus both his feet.
Can I try the Uber Fudgey Brownie Batter again?
- I don't even know if you heard me... - Oh, I heard you.
I felt that.
I get your point.
Duh. I wouldn't have even gone to that funeral if it weren't for you.
Why not? Mom, I do it.
That's where the rest of us discovered you don't need a man to define yourself.
It's Dr Mason. My first name is Paul.
Are you guys having issues? I mean, more than usual?
No, you don't. But you might like this one.
It's actually more honest to say that you're 64.
If, for example, you broke your hip.