Narrator: And Lucille was mingling with the elite of the Latino Television Academy.
Lucille: Can I get a vodka tonic, please? I'd like a vodka tonic, please. Vodka tonic, please. A sea of waiters, and no one will take a drink order.

Lucille: I'll be in the hospital bar.
Michael: Uh, you know there isn't a hospital bar, Mother.
Lucille: Well, this is why people hate hospitals.

Lucille: When's the last time you went on a date?
Michael: I just haven't met anybody who's not completely self-absorbed and impossible to have a conversation with.
Lucille: If that's a veiled criticism about me, I won't hear it and I won't respond to it.

(to Lucille 2) I got you tickets to "The Producers". I already saw it in New York. But that's of no use to a woman whose vertigo makes flying a grotesque misadventure.

Lucille: Don't you judge me. You're the selfish one. You're the one who charged his own brother for a Bluth frozen banana. I mean, it's one banana, Michael. What could it cost, ten dollars?
Michael: You've never actually set foot in a supermarket, have you?

Lucille: Supposedly, Luz had to take her daughter to the hospital. That's Lupe, her sister.
Michael: I hope she's okay.
Lucille: She's awful. Can barely wash a dish.

(to a waiter) Take it back. If I wanted something your thumb touched, I'd eat the inside of your ear.

Maeby: I don't think you're a monster.
Lucille: And I think you're a lovely girl. You know what? I think you and I ought to spend more time together.
Maeby: Yeah. And that'll drive them crazy.
Lucille: Exactly.

Maeby: You ever get the feeling like you don't even matter?
Lucille: Only when I'm around my children.

Lucille: What are you doing here?
Gob: I had to get away from Marta. Ugh. If I have to smell another meal of fish, rice and mango, I'm going to kill somebody.

Lindsay: Fine. I'll ask Michael. He'll give it to me.
Lucille: Well, maybe if you get him drunk. It's the only way he'll give money to someone who calls his "stay-in-bed-mom..."
Lindsay: He said that about me?
Lucille: I know it was harsh, but, you know, he thinks you're completely irresponsible. A stay-in-bed mom. Probably because you don't work, and you're lazy. Oh ... his words.

Lucille: (showing Michael her fox scarf) Michael, look. Look what happened to my fox. Someone cut off its little foot. Is it, is it noticeable?
Michael: Well, you've got to remember you're going to be all splattered in red paint. That's gonna distract the eye.