Opening Night

Moira:David, did you bedazzle my portfolio?

David:No. I would never bedazzle a portfolio. I bedazzle things that matter.

Moira:He emerged from that change room looking like a disco ball had relations with a funeral home.

Moira:I had the most vivid dream last night that you were bedazzling a jean jacket in the living room.

David:That wasn't a dream.

Moira:Yes, well, we've established the awkwardness. It hangs in the air like a bad perm.

Moira:David, you're being as skittish as a mink in a bathtub full of thumbtacks.

Johnny:Oh good, you're making yourself at home.

Moira:Well, darling, it was simply a case of heavy petting, and I use that term in the most antiquated sense possible.

Moira:I'm going to have an afternoon delight.

David:Oh my God.

Alexis:Mom!

Johnny:Moira...

Johnny:Jake, welcome! We're so glad you're here. You know, it's not every day we get to meet someone with such... such a substantial presence.

Johnny:I mean, you really fill up a room, don't you? In the best way, of course.

David:Why are you still here? Are you waiting for an apology? Because I'm not going to give you one.

Johnny:Who's sitting at my desk?

Bob:Well, I think of it less as someone stealing your office and more as someone borrowing it without asking and never giving it back.

Cal:Yes, hello, I'm calling to tell you that you need antivirus software. No, no, your computer hasn't shown any signs of a virus? That's because the software is working. You don't have it yet? Well, that's the problem right there.

Bob:Cal fixed my computer. He said the problem was that I had too many tabs open.

Bob:So he deleted my entire hard drive.

Bob:Now I have zero tabs open.

Bob:The man's a genius.

Johnny:I don't understand why I have to share my office. This is my workspace. I need privacy, I need quiet, I need to be able to think.

Bob:Well, you could just leave.

Stevie:Sloppy thirds.

Stevie:I'm defending Jake.

Stevie:Wait, how many people have you been with?

Jake:I don't know, like... a lot?

Stevie:Oh my God.

Stevie:I am not sloppy seconds. I am like... a pristine, untouched, factory-sealed item that someone just decided to return without a receipt.

Moira:I must say, this town hall has all the makings of a proper theatrical production. The fluorescent lighting is positively Brechtian, and this folding chair arrangement? Pure Artaudian discomfort. I do hope someone's brought their A-game, because I certainly have.

Moira:I mean, if you're going to show up to a town council meeting, the least you can do is dress appropriately. Fashion is not a frivolity—it's a civic responsibility. These people look like they got dressed in the dark at a clearance bin.

Mutt:We just threw some stuff in the van and drove. No plan, no reservation, just spontaneity.

Alexis:So you're describing my personal hell.