But I would. I can't stand to think about him dying with strangers. That's the way it happened with Hayden. (sobbing) They wouldn't let me be with him, and he was calling for me!
Julia, listen to me. I know how you feel about that. That's why I told the doctor that if at any time it looks like Reese isn't gonna make it, they're to come out here and get you.
(to Mary Jo) It's amazing, isn't it? Most of the time she goes around without the sense God gave a goose. Look at her. I mean, one crisis, and she's Scarlett O'Hara.
Well, you can count me out. I'm not going on any singles cruise. And I'm certainly not interested in putting up with a bunch of dorky men in bad toupees and polyester suits.
If you must know, I was praying, number one, that you all would let me go to sleep. Number two, that I'm not seated next to Club Mel at breakfast. And number three, I was thanking God that I did not grow up with a mother who wore a leopard-skin headband, white see-through T-shirt and glued rhinestones to her fingernails.
It's this stupid dress of Suzanne's. This is so typical. It's just like her to hang this by my bed so it won't get wrinkled in the closet. As if I'm so little it won't bother me. She does this kind of thing to me all the time.
Actually, this fascinates me. These bra cups are huge. It's kinda like this is the corral where Suzanne keeps her bosom, and I'm the hired hand who guards 'em while she takes 'em out on a midnight ride.
Excuse me, but I don't like to have the back of my neck kissed before breakfast. Especially by somebody who is too dumb to appreciate a woman like Suzanne Sugarbaker. Just who do you think that you're talking about? This is no two-bit singles cruise barnacle. This is the Rolls Royce of females who happens to have more beauty titles than you have teeth. And let me tell you something else, I consider it an honor just to guard her brassiere and I am not even a man.
Well, all I have to say is, the next time Olivia May gets sick, you all can just invite somebody else to play cards. I don't like this game. I like simple games. You know, like the kind you play when you're little.
I haven't felt this bad since I was in high school and I developed this temporary allergy to domestic meat. My poor parents had to mail order hippopotamus steaks. I'm not kidding, y'know. Until they finally figured out I could have stuff like squirrel and rabbit and 'coon, y'know. Sometimes they even fed me 'coon for breakfast...
I think this illness has affected your brain. Or, I've just never before noticed the extent of your unequalled ability to be fascinated at absolutely nothing.
Oh, I was thinking this is the first Christmas ever I haven't gone home. Then I was thinking how many men there are in my family named Virgil. I mean, I don't think we've ever gotten together on a holiday where there weren't at least two or three Virgils — sometimes even a baby named Virgil. What were you thinking?
What pig? Oh, you mean this pig. Well, y'see... Consuela's entire family has just arrived from San Salvador for the holidays... and uh... this is their gift to me. Y'know, they're very big in meat packing. Well, anyway... I tried to board her with a private kennel — they won't take her, and I'm sure not about to have her slaughtered. By the way, do you all have any idea how difficult it is to find a 26-inch rhinestone collar?
Why not? It just fits my mood. This is the worst Christmas I ever had. All my vacation plans fell through, and I haven't heard a thing from any of my ex-husbands — not even a Christmas card.
Oh, he's just a big hypochondriac. Anyway, I was sitting there last night feeling sorry for myself, y'know, and Noel came over and nudged me with her little snout. She is ugly, isn't she? (giggling) I am genuinely fond of this pig. I guess you could say she was there for me when I was lonely and needed a friend.
I'm just a little upset because Quint doesn't believe in Santa Claus anymore. As a matter of fact he says he's gonna prove it once and for all — he's been up in his room working on all these traps.
He says reindeers couldn't have the staying power, y'know, to go all the way around the world in one night. He wanted to know if Santa had some kinda deal with Federal Express.
Yeah, Uncle Willie didn't have a lot of couth. Anyway, I was pretty upset. The next year I wrote a letter to the elves. All I asked for was a baseball glove because, y'know, I figured they had there hands full with Santa gone and everything. But I guess Uncle Willie couldn't get it together that year either, because Christmas Eve he came into my room and told me that the elves had been killed in a sledding accident.
