Narrator: Michael's sister, meanwhile, was doing some selling out of her own.
Lindsay: I'm not going to sell my five percent, even though you haven't made an offer... Which would be how much, by the way?
Stan Sitwell: Five percent? Lucille actually gave you less than her natural children?
Lindsay: I hope that's not a crack about my hair color, lips, forehead, nose and teeth. Because at least I'm not wearing a rayon sweater set on my face.
Stan Sitwell: It's alpaca, actually. Cruelty-free really narrows your choices. But that's not what I meant when I said "natural child."
Lindsay: Wait a minute, you're saying I'm adopted?
Stan Sitwell: I'm sorry. I thought you knew. Have I upset you?
Lindsay: Are you kidding me? This is the happiest I've been since the day I got my new nose! I'm not a Bluth!
Stan Sitwell: You were almost a Sitwell, but 37 years ago, the Bluths adopted you out from under us. So we said good-bye to you, our darling little three-year-old.
Lindsay: Uh, wait, "three-year-old"? Uh, you said it was 37 years ago.
Stan Sitwell: Oh, yeah, right. Hey, we should do something for your 40th next week.
Narrator: This part of the news Lindsay didn't take that well.