Oh, no… It’s getting a little nippy out. Not a good time to start turtling.
Just dawned on me that the stuff should be called Teethpaste. You don’t apply it to just one tooth.
I swear to Christ, if you’re about to diagnose me with Post Traumatic Shock Syndrome, I am going to bash your goddamn face in.
I hold myself to a higher standard than others do… With that in mind, I wanted to remedy a few minor issues that come with 40 years of preaching rock ‘n’ roll.
Paul Stanley of KISS reflecting on his recent vocal cord surgery as only Paul Stanley could frame it.
Amen, brother.
VICE DEAN LAYBOURNE: Your 24 hours has expired. I need an answer, Troy. Are you ready to join the elite brotherhood of guys who fix air conditioners?
TROY: I’m sorry, Vice Dean, but… I realize no one’s better than anyone else. Some people are better at sports — and then there are magicians — but… I was put on this earth to do something… else.
VICE DEAN LAYBOURNE: So you’re going to be, what, a plumber?
TROY: No, I’m not going to be a plumber either, because they have to deal with poop.
We have a variety of all liquors served in strange containers. We are packed with celebrities— the fun ones. We also have cock fights and strippers. And guess what…? We don’t have a sign, so good luck finding the place. But if you do, you’ll be lucky because we’ve also got donkey shows, Motley Crüe and cake.
A fish wouldn’t get caught if it kept its mouth shut.
If your pictures aren’t good enough, you aren’t close enough.
Middle age is when you’re sitting at home on a Saturday night and the telephone rings and you hope it isn’t for you.
I’m just going to come out and say it. This hurts a little bit. This is a hard thing for a Bears fan to do… You guys come into my house to rub it in.