Facing the Facts.

Justin: What the hell s going on with your face?
Bobi: What?
Justin: Are those...oh Jesus...are those frown lines?!
Bobi: Justin, I'm 32, it's bound to happen.
Justin: You son of a bitch! don't you get it? The older you look the older I look.
Bobi: What are you talking about?
Justin: Look at those kids over there, they are over there saying there's old lady Royston, and I as your brother being associated with your wrinkled up face will in turn be thought of as old. Don't you understand, you just keep getting older and your dragging me along with you and I really don't like it.
Bobi: I just love coming home for Christmas.
Justin: This isn't really the time to talk about what you love, It's time to think about how your face is effecting other people.

False Pretenses.

Justin: What the hell is this?
Mom: A peanut butter and Jelly sandwich.
Justin: Is that strawberry jelly?
Mom: Yes.
Justin: Mom, that's just terrible, you sold me on this sandwich under false pretenses. Ask anyone on the street for a peanut butter and Jelly sandwich and the will give you grape Jelly, not this red devil fruit.
Mom: We don't have any grape jelly.
Justin: WHOA!!! Wait just one minute! Are those chunks of strawberry in my sandwich, this isn't even Jelly! IT'S GOD DAMN PRESERVES! Jesus lady what kind of sandwich are you trying to push on me?
Mom: here we go.
Justin: Well you should have offered me the sandwich you planed to make, you should have said 'Justin would you like a peanut butter and strawberry preserve sandwich' which I would have declined on principle because it's simply Un-American in nature.
Mom: Just eat the sandwich.
Justin: Communist.

Finding The Lord.

(Doorbell Rings, Mom get's the door)
Mom: Oh.
(Mumbles)
Mom: uh huh.
(Mumbles)
Mom: right. ok.
(Mumbles)
Mom: well I see.
Justin: (walking down the hall) Who's at the door?
Mom: These young men want to know if we found Jesus.
Justin: Oh I am way to hung over for this shit. (walks back down the hall)
Mom: He's always been a troubled child, have a nice day!

Victimized.

Mom: This take out order is wrong.
Justin: What did they forget?
Mom: The God Damn Linguine!
Justin: Did they charge us for it?
Mom: No, but still I'm going to call, they need to know that our order was wrong.
Justin: Mom don't.
Mom: Justin, they need to know they messed up, not calling them and telling them is like not reporting a rape.
Justin:....REALLY?!?! Did You REALLY just compare not getting a food order right to rape?
Mom: Quiet, it's ringing.