Alex: Oh, was that my hand? Sorry. I thought I was pinching my own ass. You understand.
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.
Having had enough of dive bars, we headed out to the next logical place for our fiesta filled evening: the bowling alley.
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.
Alex has showing random strangers hand games from elementary school. You know, in case they skipped that part of life and went straight on to college.
Andria: Here is a flower, the symbol of love, of peace, of...wait! This thing is fake! This is a symbol of how cheap that mariachi band was. And they had my love *sniff*.
Paka (internal): It's good to still be the king.
Paka (internal): Oh yeah, I always get to sit with the honeys. This 'touch-me' shirt works wonders. Thank you polyester!
Alex's offer of marriage to the bouncer was soundly rejected when his 'engagement egg' was unceremoniously smashed on his head.
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.
This woman apparently missed the memo banning Three Amigos colors from being worn along with high heels. Some people have no respect for the classics.
Woman with camera (quietly): There's a young man back there taking pictures of our children. Take him out back and shred his pervert arm into a confetti egg.
The others: Yes godmother.
The Citrus Girls, seen here, just one day after lead dancer Claire got released from the Betty Ford Clinic.
