Carol Vanstone: Get me on any god damn plane, all right? I have enough miles to orbit the sun.
Airline Concierge: I'm sorry, ma'am. All flights are grounded until the snow clears. There's nothing more I can do.
Carol Vanstone: Well, refer me to someone who can do something.
Airline Concierge: That would be God, ma'am.
Clay Vanstone: Hey, God. I know I haven't asked for a lot in this life. Granted, I was born rich... and white... and a man... and straight. Well, except for that one time in Vegas, but that was Vegas.
Clay Vanstone: I gotta tell you, I was always like, "Tracey, this doesn't make any sense," and she was like, "Words, words, words and some numbers." But she did it.
Mary: I've got doughnuts! I've got jelly and sprinkles, but not cronuts because they're a bastard pastry.