Mom: No, I don't like the subway.
Kelly: You haven't been on a New York subway train since 1968.
Mom: So? People pee down there.
Kelly: What about you, Jen?
Jen: (Hailing a cab). (Cab pulls up to curb).
(We all slide into the cab.)
Kelly: Jen, are you ignoring me?
Kelly: Can't you hear me?
Jen: I got these special thick earmuffs, so I can't hear you talk about riding the subway.
Mom: I'm not feeling so good
Mom: Maybe I shouldn't have taken that packet of vitamins the size of my fist? My stomach is all gurgly.
Mom: I don't know if I am going to make it to August: Osage County. I'm quite uncomfortable.
Jen: Mom, you are a diabolical genius. You have totally been developing your alibi all day long! You totally have an out, at either intermission! I am totally stuck there.
Kelly: No, Mom is even smarter than that. She has cleverly refused to even hail a cab or pay a driver in all the years we've been coming to New York. If she needs to go back to the hotel, she'll neeed an escort.
Jen: Mom is a genius. Plus, my stomach is feeling a bit queer.
Jen: So, I read on your blog that Alyson is worried that you are a 50 year old pervert. And then you said you hoped that Alyson wasn't a pervy man, either. So I think you should tell Alyson that if she turns out to be a pervy man, she can go ahead and sit with us at the theater tomorrow, but she cannot go to dinner with us.