As the DJ sorts thru her records, she makes a mental note to strangle whoever slipped a copy of Snow's Informer into her box.
Woman: I'd tell you the washing machine ate the rest of my shirt, but we both know that's a lie.
A real punk mohawk at a hippy parade. +10 points to the 12 year old.
The funky chicken is not the dance move for all occasions. No matter what your mom tells you.
Man: Whose baby is this? Anyone? Anyone? I keep it!
Lopaka, his soul already stolen by my other shot, abandons all hope.
Paka brings us gold! And frankincense! And mir! Wait, that's all just confetti. Nevermind.
The Confetti Kid gets a taste of his own medicine.
Stilt Girl: So yeah, I wish my mom had replaced my legs with these metal stilts after the jr.high dance. They're afraid now.
Boy: Don't you mean you wish she hadn't done it at all?
Girl: What? Of course not. You see how wicked tall I am right?
Without the aid of her hat prop, Margaret's head would be crushed like a ripe melon.
Always match your lipstick to your feather boa. Always.
No matter how hard Karen danced, her mom was the only one that paid any attention.
Guitarist: I don't think my flame motif is coming through. Do you have a match?
Oversized monster heads - giving 5 year olds nightmares since 1993.
