Eileen: We do have counselors. Father Hubley is very good.
Ray Barone: No, no. That's the last thing that we need.
Eileen: Why do you say that?
Ray Barone: Because then everybody's talking about it and...
Debra Barone: Look what are you... Why do you have to be so closed minded? You see this is the attitude.
Ray Barone: I'm not close minded.
Debra Barone: Ugh! What are you doing? Right now? This is who you are! Why can't you just talk about things? Huh? Talk!
Eileen: You know I have to say that you're actually exhibiting some of the very traits that seemed to jump off the page in Michael's book.
Debra Barone: Who?
Eileen: Um. well, uh, you.
Debra Barone: Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. First of all, it's not a book. It's pieces of construction paper.
Ray Barone: You sound a bit close minded.
Debra Barone: Hey!
[she turns towards Eiieen and throughout the next statement grows increasingly upset]
Debra Barone: Eileen, you have no idea what I have to put up with. When I got married I didn't just get a husband. I got an entire freak show that put up their tent right across the street. And that would be fine if they stayed there. But every day, *every* day. They drop a truckload of their insane family drek into my lap. How would you like to sit through two people in their sixties fighting over who invented the lawn? The lawn! And then the brother!
[She starts imitating Robert]
Debra Barone: I live in an apartment. I don't even have a lawn. Raymond has a lawn.
Debra Barone: [as herself again] But you can't blame him when you see who the mother is. She has this sick hold on the both of them! And the father is about as disgusting a creature as God has ever dropped on this planet. So no wonder the kid writes stories! I should be writing stories! My life is a gothic novel. And until you have lived in that house with all of them in there with you, day after day, week after week, year after friggin' year, then you are in no position to judge me!
