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.
Steve Jobs (off-screen): And this is what PC Magazine said about my ass after I faxed them a copy of it. That's right, it's tight. Here, I'll bounce a quarter off it just to prove it to you.
Billy loved a good 'dead baby' joke.
Mike: ..and this is the trigger. Pull this and stuff comes out of the barrel very very fast.
Steve: Hehe, stuff.
Billy knew the universe was probably infinite, but part of him still wondered if you could reach thru one end and touch the other. That'd be rad.
Paka brings us gold! And frankincense! And mir! Wait, that's all just confetti. Nevermind.
Lucifer as a cyclops.
The Volkswagen corporation has my permission to use this in their ads. Provided they drive a Jetta full of cash into my driveway first. That is all.
Sean (internal): It rubs the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again. It puts the lotion in the basket. Sean, don't you dare put the lotion in that basket of flowers.
