Vaggie: (Telling more family stories) Talking to my mom is like trying to solve a Rubik's Cube; Like, I think I can figure it out, but it's going to take me a while. Like, I remember growing up, she just bust open my door once, looked at me, and went... "Where... is the grass fucker?" (The rest of the hotel crew laughs) I'm like, "I don't know what you're asking me! Where's the grass? And I'm the fucker? Or where's the 'grassfucker' as in one word? (The crew laughs again) "Do you mean the gardener? Are you calling the gardener that? 'Cos you should stop if you've been doing that." (The crew laughs again) She's like, "No, it's an item, it goes, 'rakatakatakataka!' Where is it?" ...The weed whacker? (The crew laughs again) Are you looking for the weed whacker? "Si." The neighbor has it. Why would I have it? I'm sixteen! I'm just trying to figure out if I'm gay or not *spoiler alert*. Why would I be messing with your gardening tools? "Okay, go get it." I guess I'll go get you the weed whacker.