Frankie: Oh, my God. I could not even come up with a good reason why I go to church. I mean, who am I? Is my whole life a lie?
Mike: Just keep talking about it.
Frankie: Don't... No, don't mock me now, Mike. I'm very upset. I have to talk about this.
Mike: No, I want you to. Your breath is hot. It feels good.
Frankie: No, you don't understand. I'm the mother. I'm supposed to be the spiritual center of the home. Like, while you're out hunting and gathering, I'm supposed to make them righteous. They're not righteous. "Teach your children well." That's from Corinthians.
Mike: That's Crosby, Stills & Nash. Why does it feel like there's sand in the bed?
Frankie: It's gingerbread window crumbs. No, this whole time when I'm supposed to be caring about their spirituality, all I ever prayed for was for the girl I liked the most to be picked on The Bachelor, which is a terrible waste of prayer. By the time it airs, he's already picked her.