Composition experts

Jeannie: [driving through Denver] Up here I’ll show you where [partner of nine years] and I met. It’s called the Hornet. I always like to call it the Whore’s Net.

Jeannie: [commentating on the country song playing, “Letter Home,” by the Forester Sisters] That’s a line in the song. Sometimes she goes out with the girls at work, and their pants still fit. That’s a big deal. You know, like they didn’t turn into lard asses. OK, listen to these words.

[Song plays] Jimmy found somebody else; he told me that on New Year’s Day/ He said he felt like a man with her, and I watched them drive away/ Children and rent: There was no time for tears, just time to carry on/ I didn’t know how to tell you, so there was no letter home.

He “felt like a man with her, and I watched them drive away”? How do you feel with this boot up your ass.

Jeannie: [commentating on the country song playing, Loretta Lynn’s “You Ain’t Woman Enough (To Take My Man),” emulating Lynn] I always liked this song. Bitch, step on up.

Sarah: Step on up.

Jeannie: She’s such an Aries. Bitch, you want to get on my bad side? Come here, let me pull off your wig.

Jeannie: [describing hijinks as a real-estate agent in 1990s Wichita]  I don’t know what possessed me and [best friend and fellow agent], but we bought these underwear that were like these 4x big-girl. They were like– ::gestures as though holding up large underwear by waistband:: And we put them under [friendly male agent’s] seat, in his car.

Sarah: How did you get into his car?

Jeannie: It must have been open.

Sarah: Was he married?

Jeannie: ::nods::

Jeannie’s partner: And you liked the guy? I thought you said you liked him.

Jeannie: I did like him. He was a dork… Yeah, but we stuffed these underwear under there. He had this [car make], one of the early models. And we knew at some point, someone–

Jeannie’s partner: Was gonna pull the underwear out. Probably at the car wash.

Jeannie: Or his wife.

Jeannie’s son: Did you ever tell him you did that?

Jeannie: Oh God no. I’m trying to think of his wife’s name.

Jeannie’s son: Is he still married?

Jeannie: I’m sure. He probably thought they were hers.

Jeannie: [driving toward a restaurant in downtown Denver and speaking to cell phone’s voice-recognition software to text-message her partner and son, who are visiting a marijana dispensary] Be there at four or we’ll assume you’re finding somewhere else to sleep tonight.

Betty: [from back seat] And no “ha ha” or “LOL.”

 

 

 

 

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