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Alpacapone
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- To Infiniti and beyond!
- There is no spoon…ful of Jell-O Pudding
- Luke, I am not your father’s Volvo
- Don’t fuck with the babysitter, without Durex
“My mother thanks you. My father thanks you. My sister thanks you. And I thank you, VALTREX?.”
Dammit – an obvious repeat, I’ll show myself the door.
You had me at Hello Kitty?
If you Build-a-Bear® they will come.
He doesn’t die in the (first) book. I can imagine an amazing pitch meeting for the first draft of the script in which the only note was, “needs more DEATH.” Because death is a happy ending in Jesustown or something. God I hate this movie.
“…and to think I wouldn’t have had the gumption to start my own business had it not been for Mein Kampf and the John Galt speech from Atlas Shrugged.”
“…you could say my real passion is tailoring, but I really excel in getting girls to help me move furniture into my windowless van.”
It’s not a horrible movie because it captures the semi-literate, doe-eyed backup dancer in all of us. All the backup dancers in the audience loved it. The writer did a great job of portraying the existential angst of backup dancing, how we are not bound by the sexy floor taps in our hands, but by the sexy floor taps in our hearts. Also, Ghostface Killah is the Arcade Fire of juvenille detention centers.
I’m going to pluck you ’til you love me, f*ggot!