Let’s be Steel Magnolias

I’m the thousands of Easter Eggs.

Who the hell had time to hard boil and dye all of those?

I'm the tedious, formulaic script and the inauthentic performances.

I’m blush and bashful.

I'm pre-booze Dylan McDermott before I fucked up my looks with vodka.

I’m track lighting

I’m the red velvet armadillo cake, topped with gray icing.

I’m the Winter Wonderland music that is a perfect transition for the beauty contest

I’m Nancy Beth Marmillion.

I'm in the bunny costume and I can't see shit!

I’m the sanctuary that looks like it’s been hosed down with Pepto Bismol.

I'm Janine Turner getting caught with my tinsel down around my knees

I'm the sink from which Drum removes the dishes before he pees in it.

I’m gay Steve with track lighting.

I'm the juice.

I'm annelle's contact lens. Nobody move!

I’m Ouiser. The older I get the uglier I get.

I'm the bag of tomatoes Ouiser sits on

I’m the two pigs fighting under the blanket/dress of Janice Van Meter.

I'm the box of "Southern Hair" magazines

I’m the gun used to shoot the birds out of the tree.

We are the latest styles that one needs to keep abreast of.

We are Mark, Rick, and Steve.

I'm A Tale of Two Kidneys.

I’m the condoms on Shelby and Jackson’s car.

I'm Clairee's gay nephew Marshall.

I am appalled at R2’s comment!

Rubbahs, R24.

I’m Dolly Parton’s inability to comprehend how a Georgia girl like Julia Roberts has the worst Southern accent of all.

I'm Ruth Robeline's twisted, troubled soul.

I'm the longest nose hair in the free world -- which belongs to Owen Jenkins.

I'm not understanding what's so tough about these people?

I'm Doly's melted butter.

I'm Shelby's corpse, rotting in the cold, cold ground with worms playing pinochle on my snout because Mommy couldn't bear the thought of cremating me. Come visit me NOW, you controlling bitch.

I’m insulin. No one in this movie has heard of me.

I’m half the people in Chinquapin Parish who’d give their eye teeth to take a whack at Ouiser!

I'm Pam. I hand Shelby her bag in the maternity ward without noticing the first twinges of her impending coma. It's not that I'm a bad nurse; I just don't like her. Fuck her and her pink everything.

I'm Pam. I DID notice. Also that wasn't the first time I saw that something was going on with her but she was such a cunt to the nurses and staff we were never gonna tell anyone. We had bets on when she'd actually eat it. I didn't win but came real close.

I'm Jackson's load, blown in the cemetery parking lot in the pussy of Tanya - a secretary from the law firm.

I'm the mismatched manger scenes for incredibly low prices at the Shreveport Baptist bookstore fire sale.

I'm the beautiful Georges Delerue score.

I'm the burning pot of spaghetti sauce when Jackson came home. I was all she ever cooked, noodles and spaghetti sauce. Boy, did she have those four old bitches fooled about what a wonderful wife she was.

I am the finely ground glass that Jackson used to inject Shelby with when she would ask him to give her her insulin shot. He did this for about a year before she had her “stroke”.

We piped the soundtrack on loop as background music for our County Historical Museum exhibit rooms.

I'm cuppa, cuppa, cuppa and served over ice cream.

I'm the grape (or aubergine?) football uniforms.

I am stunned looking at the hot 46 year-old Sam Shepard.

[quote]We piped the soundtrack on loop as background music for our County Historical Museum exhibit rooms.

It is a perfect illustration of a lazy summer day and evening in rural America.

I’m time marchin’ on across your face.

I’m Aunt Fern’s inadequate counter space.

I’m the birds Drum is trying to get rid of before they start shitting on the wedding guests.

I'm Sammy Dwayne DeSoto's beer in Annelle's Frigidaire.

I'm one of the totally dispensable male roles invented for the film

I’m the mirror. Does anyone have one???

I'm the Piggly Wiggly where you can run into Owen Jenkins

I’m Shelby’s first signs of crows feet.

I’m the glass of juice, drink it Shelby!

I'm Annie Potts and I coulda done well in this film.

I’m the pork and beans. Drum eats them with everything

I'm the frightened fish.

I'm Ouiser in the locker room pretending to check my makeup in my compact while really checking out all the nude mens...

I'm the two younger brothers who never seem to age over the four plus years the film covers.

In that grape shit nobody wants to hear about.

I’m the bench Clairee won’t get off of.

I'm the chicken you bite the head off of (but not on the first visit) at Annelle's church.

I’m Clairee’s luggage.

We’re the awards circuit for that year.

We laugh from cold maw of SPACE!

I'm track lighting.

I'm the house wine of the South.

I'm the correctly spelled tattoos on Spud's girlfriend.

I'm the sink where Drum pees.(after he removes the dishes)

I'm M'Lynn's wasted kidney.

I'm Julia's undeserved Oscar nomination

I'm R70 and didn't bother reading to R12 before posting my "witty" answer.

I'm Janice Van Meter and I do not have the decency to wear a girdle...

I'm Ouiser's dog. If I had hair I'd be a Saint Bernard.

I'm praying because the elastic is shot in my pantyhose.

I'm helmet hair.

I’m Clairees roots that need done.

I'm the something that M'Lynn wants to hit at the cemetery.

I'm the bad mood that Ouiser has been in the for the past 40 years.

I'm Ruth Robeline. My whole life has been an experiment in terror. When it comes to suffering, I'm right up there with Elizbeth Taylor.

I'm a VCR. I'm worth getting married for.

I'm a new version of this thread that pops up every year or so.

Shelby, drink your juice.

Ouiser , you still cuttin.your own hair?

I’m the tomatoes that you’re supposed to grow when you’re a woman from the south.

They single handedly convinced people to avoid Louisiana

I’m Ouiser’s pig from hell.

I'm Annelle's personal tragedy that will not interfere with her ability to do good hair.

I'm the pot of marinara boiling over on the stove while Shelby is seizing outside.

I'm Tommy. I sleep in the same room as my brother Jonathan. Sometimes we get naked and sleep in the same bed and, on occasion, jack each other off or suck each other. But, no homo.

I’m the handkerchief wiping away my drool while gazing at the extremely hot, Dylan McDermott. 🥵

I’m the Ouiser getting her bikini line waxed.

I’m Dolly’s song “Eagle When She Flies”. The producers opted not to use me.

I’m the equally smarmy and unnecessary Lifetime remake with an all black cast.

I'm the old Datalounge thread that asked how long Shelby's son would have waited before starting to eat her corpse if his dad hadn't come home.

I'm the Mercedes Benz that Ouiser is having an affair with.

I'm the smile that Ouiser gave that son-of-a-bitch Drum Eaton when she saw him in the Piggly Wiggly.

We're the Christian women who fried the chicken and we have unspoken misgivings about existing in the same universe as Spud, let alone Mark, Rick, and Steve.

I'm the secretary Jackson marries to take care of his needs and Sammy after Shelby croaks. You knew that hot piece wouldn't stay single for long.

I’m M’lynn’s ghetto ass name.

I'm the house wine of the South!

r102, meet r68.

I’m Sally Field aggressively shoving the juice cup into Julia Roberts’s face.

I'm Jack Junior who should have been nominated for an Oscar for that whole shrieking and pointing scene

R103, then can I be the best cherry coke in the history of the world?

Just as long as there is no beer in my Frigidaire, r106

We're Cindy Williams, Elaine Stritch, Sally Kirkland, and Polly Bergen.

I love you more than my luggage, R107

I'm the magnolia tree that the judge has not decided who's it is.

I'm the Armadillo cake. I have grey icing.

I'm the lack of enough counter space for a cake shaped like a snake.

[24] I’m the condoms on Shelby and Jackson’s car.

“IT’S TACKY!”

I’m the one who laughed out loud and appreciated her truly Southern bent and emphasis on Tacky.

I'm Lee Radziwill, sitting where I ought not and fucking Julia Roberts over.

I'm Clairee's, spirit animal.

I'm not reading this entire thread before posting my duplicate answer thinking I'm the first.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

We’re looking at you, R111. Please see R6.

I'm the coffee that just kicked in.

I'm Anne Boleyn's six fingers.

I am the live chicken they make you eat at one of Annelle's bible-thumping tent revivals. Just not on your first visit

I’m the obnoxious behavior of the main cast members being interviewed by Oprah on her talk show.

I’m Herbert Ross treating Julia like shit.

I am the god-awful wig they got for Julia after Truvy cut her hair short.

I’m the clash of cunts that happens when you put Julia Roberts, Shirley Maclaine and Herbert Ross on one movie set. With a sprinkling of jet set cunt when Princess Lee Radziwill visits her soon to be third husband on the set.

Amazing that nobody ended up dead in a bayou with all that cuntery in one place.

Shelby’s godawful short haircut was unfortunately very much of its time for women of her same station.

I love Julia, but she NEEDS long hair!

R125 yes but it LOOKED like a bad wig from the Raquel Welch rejects pile.

Who cares what Shelby's hair looks like she Shelby has been driving nails up her arms!

I'm the kidney.

I'm Sammy's beer can that Annelle poured down the drain.

I'm iced tea, the house wine of the South.

I'm M'Lynn's hair, a brown football helmet.

I'm Annelle's mismatched mangers and Baby Jesus ornaments.

[quote]I'm Sammy's beer can that Annelle poured down the drain.

How do you pour a beer can down a drain? Beer, yes. The can?

[quote]I'm Annelle's mismatched mangers and Baby Jesus ornaments.

Annelle cleaned them out of the Baby Jesuses from the mis-matched manger sets.

Fuck, have you even SEEN the film?

I"m Bunky, that's her ex-husand. I took everything.

R134 & R135, you need to get out more. You’re quite over the top over this.

Were eggs. Lots and lots of them, rolling inside, underneath and around a lot of really weird and pretentious Southern fraufolk. Plus with Sybil doing a Minnie Pearl accent.

^We’re. Sorry, y’all!

I'm Truvy's strict policy that nobody is allowed to cry alone in her presence.

You want clash of cunts R124, I got your clash of cunts.

I'm Truvy's casserole gettin' all bubbly. That's how you know I'm ready.

We're boys and money. We never stick to Truvy.

I'm the ice cream on top of Cuppa Cuppa Cuppa to cut the sweetness.

I'm the radio Truvy threw against the wall when she couldn't figure out where the batteries went. She knows now she was suffering from pre-menstrual syndrome!

Sim almost through with DL

This type of thread stinks up Dl

We're the anonymous sick tickets.

I'm the melted wax pot that Spud played with as they talked about dead Shelby. I make you pretty.

I’m the Halloween bridal shower with the monster motif.

I’m Ouiser’s serial killer handwriting.

I’m Dolly’s wig moving very noticeably on her head.

I'm picking up twenty minutes into the story from the last time I tried to stream this movie.

I'm Elizabeth Arden suing Truvy and her fucking red door.

I'm the hired locals for the wedding reception who look like real southern, small town folk

I'm Annelle's water which broke.

I'm the fart which offends M'lynn

I’m the red beans and rice. I freeze beautifully

We're everyone else in Natchitoches. We only tolerate the Eatentons because they had great food at the wedding and the Christmas party was something to do on an otherwise boring Saturday night. Otherwise we all know better than to get involved in anything M'Lynn or her little circle of friends do. They all act so entitled and above everyone in town so we just steer clear of them. And you didn't hear it from me, but NOBODY in town felt sorry about what happened to Shelby, she was the bitchiest one of all of them. And in case you hadn't noticed none of the women in town get their hair done at Truvy's. Nobody needs to walk around looking like some truckstop whore.

I’m the attempted TV sequel series.

I'm the accessories that give humans the ability to separate from all other animals.

Whoever plays Jackson in that unsold pilot at R159 is as attractive as a wet fart. Pass.

We're Ouiser, M'Lynn, Clairee, and Shelby.

R162 there was a Truvy's 2... so there must have been more customers.

I'm Ouiser: I'm not as sweet as I used to be.

I'm Herbert Ross, salivating, during the locker room scene.

I'd the magnolia's you got from MY tree. THAT IS MY TREE