Frankie: [sighs] Well, I'm fine.
Mike: You sound great.
Frankie: No, I am. My ovaries are fine. Unfortunately, they're like raisins. And not the cute, plump California ones that dance and wear gloves. They're like the hard, shriveled, sad, deformed ones in the Raisin Flakes we get from the Frugal Hoosier.
Mike: Well, this can't be a shock, Frankie. I mean, you are 50...
Frankie: I know what I am, thanks. [exhales sharply] You don't get it. Because they don't shut men's factories downs. They only shut women's factories down.
Mike: What factories?
Frankie: This factory. I mean, I liked knowing it was open. Now it's all red-tagged and padlocked with bulldozers in the parking lot.
Mike: I feel like anything I say here is gonna be wrong, so... you want to just hug me?

Axl: Let me ask you something. You ever order a glass of wine and think, "Hmm, I could really go for a nice thirst-quenching beer"? Or drinking a beer and think, "Hmm, wine would really add some class to these nachos"? Well, now you don't have to choose, 'cause I've solved that age-old question. Allow me to introduce you to the latest in taste sensation... Bwine!
Frankie: Bwine?
Axl: That's right. Beer plus wine equals Bwine. It was either that or "Weer," but that sounds a little too much like "Weird," and that is just not good marketing. Business major.
Mike: Wait, you're actually planning to sell this stuff? As a beverage? To people?
Axl: Oh, not just this one. I have created several varieties of Bwine. I have a Cabernet mixed with a stout, a Caber-stout, a pale ale mixed with a Chardonnay, a pale-ardonnay, and a fruity yet malty Merlot-enbrau.
Mike: Hm. Ahh... What's worse than bad?
Frankie: Oh, I don't know, maybe it just needs more wine. Or less wine. Or more sugar. Sugar helps with everything.
Axl: Yeah, I'm still fine-tuning my recipes. But once I lock them in, I'm taking these babies public. I'm telling you, Bwine is gonna bwow up!
Mike: [sighs] Just don't go wasting my beer.
Axl: Oh, come on, please. I'm creating a fine line of fine Bwines. I'm not gonna be using your Frugal Hoosier "dented but drinkables."

Sue: Okay, so, what do we do? Dad didn't give us enough drywall to fix a hole this big. He's gonna freak out.
Brick: I'm not gonna lie. It's gonna be really rough for you.
Sue: Me? You're the one who did this.
Brick: Well, you're the older sister who left her little brother to do major home repair on his own. Besides, if Dad flips out, I can just play the quirk card. I shrug, I look confused, throw in a few whoops and whispers, lick something if I have to... I'm off scot-free.
Sue: Oh, my God. You're diabolical.
Brick: I am not diabolical. [whispers] Diabolical. [normal voice] It's so easy. [whispers] It's so easy. [normal voice] Okay, that one wasn't planned.

Sue: Ugh! Come on, think, Sue, think! [sighs] [gasps] Wait! Ah. Oh. Oh!
Brick: "Sue Heck for Historian". "Sue Heck for Library Representative". "Sue Heck for Cafeteria Liaison"?
Sue: Yeah, I tried to create an office for myself, and I still lost to a write-in. Some guy named Joe Schmo.
Brick: How's this gonna help us?
Sue: We use the poster board to fix the wall. If we patch and paint it right, no one will ever know.
Brick: "Sue Heck for East Indy Student Council"?
Sue: Oh, that one's for next week. I really think I'm gonna get it.

Mike: Swedish death cleaning?
Frankie: Yeah. Apparently, in Sweden, when you hit 50, you're supposed to start decluttering your life so you don't burden your loved ones with a bunch of stuff when you die.
Mike: I can't go back to the grocery begging for boxes again. Even they know you're never gonna clean.
Frankie: No, of course not. I'm saying, as I was watching it, it hit me... I'm that age. I'm the age where the Swedes want me to prepare for death.
Mike: Come on, Frankie. Last week it was the Greeks and eating more olive oil. [Frankie sighs] Why can't we just live like Americans and die with a garage full of crap?