Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Yeah, and you too, from what I hear, but slightly smaller.
...and I have a room full of You're Pretty!
-How old are you? -Thirty-seven.
-I can get you high. -No, I'm clean.
Nice job baby-proofing, Shane.
Oh, come on. You just need to remind Cee-Cee...
"Why, yes," I reply, as I usually do to that particular question.
You walked out. I have to think about the baby now.
I'll go with them.
I'll find my own way.
You in my house, lady.
A positive reflection in a floor-length mirror.
I'm obsessed with the drama.
The rabbi brought them. Apparently you need ten Jews...
I'm the papa. Yes. Tradition.
Try cherry.
Little presumptuous, don't you think?
Why the hell should I help you?
Goyim.
-I'll see you at 7. -Yes.
Just need a few scribbles on a few dotted lines.
-I did not approve this. -Now he looks like his daddy.
-You know, I admire you. -Go away. This is my spot.
-Oh, he's Jewish now? -Reform, but yeah.
-Way to start him off on a life of crime. -Oh, come on.
A professional woman, a doctor, no less...
But I'm starting to realize my mother gave me lots of bad advice.
Almost.
I'm buoyant. I'm a buoy.
And then West Germany.
Ignore the dark warnings at your own peril.
If you break the contract, if you do not pay what you owe...
This little milk ball was a mistake.
-And then we get the pot back? -Guaranteed.
But it rhymes with "drug" and "hilas."
-I-- -Okay, then, Mrs. Botwin.