Having had enough of dive bars, we headed out to the next logical place for our fiesta filled evening: the bowling alley.
Mother: Son, did you...did you just lift up my skirt? Don't look away and act all innocent. Mommy can find a date her own way, thank you very much.
Jen was used to Alex's antics, but the full body checking he was administering to each bar patron may be taken the wrong way by some.
Kid Cowyboy: What the...Dad!!! You told me I was getting the turbo model. This thing couldn't gallop its way out of a paper bag!
Alex: 8-ball, corner pocket. Cue ball, side pocket. Wow, this makes me want to play some pocket pool, if you know what i mean. Eh, eh?!
Fiesta, the only time besides Halloween when the baby/adult mutants come out to play.
This new aliens species, deciding to be a bit more civilized, digs out from inside your stomach with a spoon instead of their teeth and claws.
Mike TV didn't know why he was here with these mexican kids. Or why he hadn't aged in the past 40 years. But he did know that if his mom withheld another Wonka royalty check from him, it'd take more than a candy bar to settle him down.
The belly lint hat craze finally sweeps into Santa Barbara.
Alex: Oh, was that my hand? Sorry. I thought I was pinching my own ass. You understand.
The confetti egg business seemed innocent enough; until we noticed the phrase 'You have the ebola virus! Go to your egg vendor for the cure.' written on each tiny piece of confetti.
Woman: I bring you peace! Ok, so it's just shredded paper, but you simpletons don't know the difference. Peace for all!
The older mariachi was being paid by the hour, and these young-uns were walking way too fast for him to be able to afford that adult-sized guitar he'd been eyeing.
Paka: Yeah doc, my friend just swallowed another confetti egg. Can I put you on with her so you can tell her they aren't edible?
