No known awards.
Jill: I did not leave my home and my beautiful family to waste this one, this one wild and precious life working for the goddamn Temu Gordon Ramsay!
Jill: Here’s my little bit of “proactive dating advice” to you ladies. If it looks like a duck, and it swims like a duck, it’s probably just a bargain bin, Hugh Grant fuck-boy with a podcast.
Andy: No cousin of mine is spending New Year’s alone, crying to Taylor Swift.
Wes: I don’t cry to Taylor Swift.
Breeda: Everybody can hear you! They’re complaining about you again.
Wes: OK, well, I have plans tonight, so…
Breeda: No more tacos!
Wes: Yes! Tacos!
Andy: I miss the old Wes.
Wes: I’m sorry. The old Wes can’t come to the phone right now.
Andy: Why?
Breeda: Oh, no, no. Don’t you dare!
Wes: Because he’s dead.
Jill: Those voicemails are not a plea to the universe, “God, send me somebody to love me!” I don’t need a man. What I need is my little sister back.