Eating Mexican food was serious business, and Andy was up to the task.
Kids, never pierce your nipple on a bet.
Little Girl: I'm sorry, I'm out of candy. You'll have to get it at the store like everyone else you cheapskate. Oh, and you got crap in your hair.
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.
This gesture somehow evoked Bon Jovi, or summoned Lucifer, or something. Whatever it was, I think Alex held on to that guy's hand just a few seconds too long.
It's true that we all deserve the freedom to marry, but why direct it only at people named Lawrence? Seems a bit exclusive to me. I mean, there couldn't have been more than 10-15 Lawrences in the whole parade crowd.
It turns out that, much like chickens, eggs cannot fly, no matter how hard you throw them upwards.
The Citrus Girls, seen here, just one day after lead dancer Claire got released from the Betty Ford Clinic.
Alex: Oh, was that my hand? Sorry. I thought I was pinching my own ass. You understand.
Having had enough of dive bars, we headed out to the next logical place for our fiesta filled evening: the bowling alley.
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.
Sean, JohnMark and Randy together again. Now, if they just hand a banjo, a bottle of whiskey, and an angry ferret, this could be a proper reunion.
Jess came here with Sean, but she'd be leaving with the shrub. All those pretty lights...
