The Short Rib

Grace and Frankie 6×8

Frankie: Frankie Fest, Hawaii Edition. I love that idea!

Grace: No, imagine, Nick and Jack become friends, and the four of us all hang out, all the time.
Frankie: Even in the bath?
Grace: Not in the bath.
Frankie: Okay, we'll hash out that specific later.

Grace: But wait. What if the guys don't hit it off tonight?
Frankie: Oh, they will hit it off, because we're gonna make them hit it off. And if worst comes to worst, I've always got Twister and four tabs of acid in the linen closet.

Grace: Nick, did you know that Jack was in the music business?
Jack: That's right.
Grace: Go on, honey. Tell him what kind of music you like.
Nick: Uh, you know, all kinds.
Frankie: No way. Jack likes all kinds of music, too.

Jacob: How are you feeling, Frankie?
Frankie: Well, um, okay, all things considered. I... I'm, uh... I'm a little bloated. My knees hurt. My back, too. It doesn't like to be upstaged. Oh, my hearing is shot. It's all falling apart, really.

Grace: He even hugged me. He hates me!
Frankie: That's true. But it's unlike Jacob to resort to hug warfare.
Grace: Oh, he's a man. It's typical male behavior. Only wanting what they can't have.
Frankie: Well, of course he still wants me. If anything, he's a victim, helpless against my enchantments.

Grace: Frankie, you're happy with Jack, right?
Frankie: Like Bill Murray in a photobomb.

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