Bree: Is this actually happening? Gaby Solis is asking us for sex tips?
Gaby: I know. It's the apocalypse.

Robber: Get out!
Bree: What?!
Robber: I'm taking your car.
Bree: Oh my God, I could kiss you.

Chuck: Don't take this the wrong way, but you could do this professionally.
Bree: Coming from a man who's on a first name basis with half the hookers in Fairview, that's quite a compliment to take, Detective.

Bree: Chuck and I went to the cellar to choose a wine, and when we were done, my entrée was smoking.
Mrs. McCluskey: I bet it was.

Bree: I'm not sure these clothes are quite the thing for a dinner party.
Renee: Dinner? I wouldn't wear them to a drive-by shooting.

Bree: Gaby, if you're really serious, I will set you up with a class at my gun range. They'll teach you about gun safety. You will get a permit. And then, we'll see about you getting a gun.

Gaby: Great! So, in the meantime, if skulking guy breaks into my house, I'm just going to yell, "Freeze! I'm taking a class!"

Bree: Gaby, I'm not giving you a gun.
Gaby: Why not? I let you borrow things all the time.

Chuck: I'm sure you want to avoid another mistake like your second husband, the hit-and-run driver. Orson, was it?
Bree: What?
Chuck: Tell me who was creepier... him or the pharmacist who killed himself while you were dating?

You found something bad? Is he a dirty cop...or a Democrat?

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