The Vocabulary of Moira Rose Page 1 of 3
Revel in the sagacious vocabulary of Schitt's Creek's resident wordsmith.
Moira: We landed on a one-of-a-kind event to celebrate and congregate those who happen to be unattached, uh, in the hopes of facilitating interpersonal connections.
Alexis: Sorry, so like a singles event, then?
Moira: That word is now considered derogatory. I believe they prefer to be called independents.
Alexis: So you stole my idea, took it to Council, and claimed it as your own?
Moira: Alexis, now is not the time for pettifogging!
David: Um, Jake, this is my mother.
Jake: Listen, I'm really sorry, I didn't think anybody would be home.
David: Okay, nobody was supposed to be home. Nobody was supposed to be home, so... You were supposed to be at lunch, why- Why are- Why were you not at lunch?!
Moira: David, stop acting like a disgruntled pelican!
Moira: It's startlingly quiet in here, David. Is that a good sign?
David: I thought you were booked up all day, and that's why you couldn't help Dad with the dead b- That thing in the motel.
Moira: I am booked up, David. You should see my schedule. I'm positively bedevilled with meetings, etc.
Moira: After a glut of unasinous ideas put forth today, the room is suddenly bombilating with anticipation. Can we feel that? It's almost as though we're building towards some sort of inevitable climax.
Moira: I am suddenly overwhelmed with regret. It's a new feeling for me, and I don't find it at all pleasurable.
Stevie: You regret that embarrassing photos of you aren't online?
Moira: No, I regret that they're lost. They were the one perfect memorial to who I once was. And I should've appreciated those firm, round mammae and Callipygian ass while I had them.
Stevie: If you're talking about your body, uh, I think you still look amazing.
Moira: Then allow me to offer you some advice. Take a thousand naked pictures of yourself now. You may currently think, "Oh, I'm too spooky.", or, "Nobody wants to see these tiny boobies." But believe me, one day you will look at those photos, with much kinder eyes and say, "Dear God, I was a beautiful thing!"
Stevie: Will I?
Moira: Mmm-hmm. Oh, and make sure you submit those photos to the Internet. Otherwise, your own children will go looking for them one day and tragically, they won't be there.
David: Alexis seems to think you like me more.
Moira: Alexis, don't be ridiculous! This is exactly the kind of paranoia that makes me wary of spending time with you.
Alexis: I was sitting right here, and you chose to eat lunch alone.
Moira: That is simply not true! I didn't see you. At first. Alexis, I would be absolutely glee-ridden if you would have lunch with me. Today.
Alexis: No, no, no, no, no. I wasn't actually...
Moira: You'll meet me at the cafe for their one o'clock sitting.
Judge: Juror 75, you were asked if you had any personal conflicts that might affect your judgments of this case.
Moira: I don't know these people. I don't know these people. The fact that my own world was ripped out from under me, by someone like this prick of a prestidigitator? I should think would help the court in the quest to make a fair judgment. [crowd murmurs] May I approach the bench, please?
Judge: No, you may not. The Court thanks and excuses Prospective Juror 75.
Moira: How mercurial is life? We all imagine being carried from the ashes by the Goddess Artemis and here I get a balatron from Barnum and Bailey. [small laugh]
Roland: Okay. I, I have no idea what that means, but it doesn't sound good.
Johnny: David did all this?
Moira: I can't believe it. He's managed to create, in this town, something truly winsome. I would shop here, John. Even without a nagging sense of obligation.
Moira: Oh, and it's Roaring Twenties themed, and I know you have a soft spot for seersucker.
David: I won't be dressing up.
Moira: Aw, say, don't be a dew-dropper! Throw some concealer under those peepers, make like a swell, and go put on the Ritz!
Moira: I don't believe this.
Johnny: Sweetheart, I just thought having your own garden in town would make losing the theatre less painful.
Moira: Oh, I won't be pitied, John! Or fed your pacifying pablum like some kind of soft-headed infant!
Jocelyn: I'm here! I got a sitter!
Moira: Oh, Jocelyn, I'm afraid that dirigible has ascended.
Jocelyn: But I'm here on time.
Moira: Yes, you are, but we started an hour early. Ronnie has a massage.
Jocelyn: You moved the rehearsal for Ronnie's massage?
Moira: Well, it was also conducive to Twyla's schedule. It's hard for her to juggle, what with the cafe.
Jocelyn: Oh, is it hard for her? To juggle? And none of you here thought to tell me about this little time change?
Moira: You said you couldn't make it because of the bébé.
Moira: Well, hello, you!
Stevie: Mrs. Rose, what are you doing here?
Moira: I thought you and I might celebrate your big award!
Stevie: Come in. Oh, thank you.
Moira: And I was made aware there was a loss, as well.
Stevie: Yeah. Turns out, someone who's been working the front desk of a motel her whole life isn't exactly a turn-on.
Moira: I was speaking of his loss. Stevie, underneath the brambly tartan blousant is a chrysalis, just bursting with potential.
Moira: [gasps] Oh gals! You shouldn't have. Jocelyn, are we now moonlighting as town crier?
Jocelyn: Oh, no, Moira...
Moira: Cheeky gawpus you. Yes, it's true. Our husbands, at my husband's direction, are currently in New York City, vending their business to the corporate cognoscenti.
Johnny: Okay, enough. Let's get going, please?
Moira: Yes, yes, plenty of work to be done. Unfortunately my previous engagements preclude me from offering my beneficence around the motel today. John, I hate to leave you like this!
Moira: Before we find ourselves ebrious with hooch and happiness, may I say how very proud all of us are on this day of days.
David: Well, we did say no speeches, so...
Moira: Your father...
Stevie: Guess they listened.
Moira: With his pecuniary savvy and intrepidation has turned what began as a katzenjammer of a day into one filled with faith, hope and love.
Johnny: Well, thank you, sweetheart.
Moira: Very well. How to get started. Um, I woke up yesterday morning with a spring in my step.
David: Start later, please.
Moira: I could never know where the day was...
David: Fast forward it.
Moira: I ran into the elderly gentleman outside his room and he asked me for a painkiller.
Moira: I told him I didn't have one.
Moira: But I did have one. In fact, I had several sample packets in my purse. I had come from the pharmacy, and they were just out in a bowl. But I refused the man, and the next thing I know, he turns up dead!
David: Well, why didn't you just give him the pill?
Moira: Because David, because I can barely come to terms with the fact that I've resorted to hoarding sample packets of a basic headache medication, let alone reveal it to the world. This is what my life has come to, David, killing a man over a complimentary bolus.
Moira: [on the phone] Jocelyn is in labour!
Alexis: Oh my god!
Moira: I know it's no one's fault. I'm with her now, we're in the car.
Alexis: Okay, so what am I supposed to do, here?
Moira: Well, has the press arrived yet?
Alexis: Yes! Everybody has arrived. Everybody is here, just waiting.
Moira: Oh! Don't start without me you little frippit. You don't have the media training.
Moira: I was hoping this might be an opportune moment to discuss the quagmire in which you fancy yourself ensnared?
Bob: The what to the what now?
Moira: Well, well, "John-John" returns.
Johnny: Okay, Moira, don't tell me you still haven't slept.
Moira: What would give you that impression?
Johnny: Sweetheart, you've got to find a way of getting some sleep!
Moira: Easier said than done, John, when your only husband is longing for his epistle-writing inamorata.