Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

No, Mother. It Iooks more Iike they're...

Samantha, you don't go around sIugging peopIe.

I mean, you just don't ''get some space and get controI.''

I'm a IittIe infIexibIe.

This is BrookIyn's answer to the Connecticut Country CIub.

-Pointy hips? -That's it.

Richard WeIIing? He's such a nice-Iooking boy.

There is never any reason to resort to physicaI vioIence.

You got drunk on aItar wine and mooned the LittIe Sisters of Hope.

WeII, I'II be darned.

-Tony. -Hey, Mrs. Rossini.

You shouId have seen it.

I bet Tony's toId you a Iot about me, huh?

Are you kidding me? Forget it.

I shouId have reasoned with her, but instead, I Iost controI...

I'II just snap open my IittIe Mary Poppins umbreIIa...

And they smiIe a Iot.

Hey, hey. Watch your manners, huh, paI?

Let me start by saying that it's not your fauIt.

-She has a point. Listen to her, Sam. -But, Dad...

And if that don't work, it's time for an eIbow transpIant.

HoId him and hit him. HoId him.

It's tough to adjust to a new neighbourhood.