Michael: Grandma, this is my fiancée, Lorraine, and this is her mother and two aunts.
Sophia: Oh, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. This is your fiancée?
Michael: Yeah, that's right.
Sophia: You couldn't find someone your own age?
Greta: What is that supposed to mean?
Sophia: No offense. But your daughter looks like she's been around the block more times than the Good Humor Man.
Greta: Hold my purse. Those are fighting words.