Just let me be, Leigh.

You could’ve replaced the Cool Ranch, Blanch.

I finally got that lease, Elyse.

Lorraine, I’m texting from a plane.

Celine. I mean…come on.

Not to be rude, Gertrude, but you can’t cook.

You’re too moody, Trudy.

I’m closing the door, Eleanor.

Ursula, you curse a lot.

Rosalyn, there you go again. I’m 32.

Listen, Denise, I’m in love with Maurice.

Lucy, can’t you see? I’m miserable.

Dad blows, Rose.

It’s the jeans you’re wearin’, Karen.

I have a five-year plan, Marianne.

Pam, the spam.

You wanna hear the truth, Ruth? I’m your nephew.

Velveeta is not cheese, Louise.

Don’t make me beg, Meg.

This town’s too borin’, Lauren.

I just need some space, Grace.

You’re in oblivion, Vivian.

Check your email, Gail.

It’s rather uncanny, Fanny, but I’m turning into you.

Sorry Yvonne, but you just go on and on.

Moving into a motel, Estelle.

It’s just a tryst, Candice.

Never too soon, June.

You tend to be in delirium, Miriam.

May I be coy, Joy? You have severe halitosis.

Of this town, I’m not so keen, Irene.

We’re moving to Texas, Alexis.

I cannot lie Lorelei: I’ve joined a commune.

Ophelia, I feel ya.

May I attempt to be sane, Jane?

Take a wild guess, Celeste.

Carol, you’re sterile. I know I’m adopted.

I never heard of “chronic diarrhea,” Rhea.

It’s just how I feel, Lucille.

Yes, my feet reek, Dominique. I’m your only son.

Camping indefinitely at the Grand Canyon, Shannon.

Who’s Earl, Pearl? Dad’s still in a coma.

You win, Jocelyn.

Oh, you’re peeved, Eve? I’m about to explode.

I’ll see more of ya, Victoria.

Thanks for waking me up so early, Shirley.

I can’t live with passive-aggressive people, Renee. Is that okay?

One last kiss, Iris?

I don’t know when, Gwen. This curfew is absurd.

I’m taking the Honda, Rhonda.