Marty had been running Vision of Lace II, east Burbank’s premier sex shop, for eight years now and had never seen such a poor seller as the Garcia Hand Dildo.
- No, Mr. Owsley, you cannot “soup up” the audio tour. Stop calling it the Walk of Sound.
- Parish, you’ve got to help me: I’ve accidentally invited TWO DATES to the fundraising ball!
- Gentlemen, I’m not going to point fingers and play the blame game and name names, but using the museum to stage a fake blood drive is going to stop immediately, Phil.
- There won’t be any dinosaurs, Bobby. It’s an art…
Mickey believed in mentoring young people using the Mister Miyagi system, which meant that at the end of your relationship with Mickey, you would realize all the lessons he’s taught you, but until then, it’s just a series of vicious physical assaults and random personal chores.
The latest exhibition at MoMTDA (Mom: taDAA!) is Just The Facts, Ma’am, a collection of art that fails to get easily-researched details right.
"Swiggity swoobie, Phil’s coming for that doobie!"
Though he played it down, the sight of Bobby in a rugby shirt and Levi’s always reminded you he went to boarding school.
Back then, you could just sit on the crates and no one got hurt. (Soon after this photo was taken, the crates collapsed and everyone got hurt.)
…the man was part koala.
Bobby read about this thing with the director and the young men and wandered around the house asking his daughters if twinks twerked or was it the other way around until he got confused and laid down for a while.
Two things: Phil’s head is far too large for his body, and—in this photo, at least—he wears to the right.
Bobby once got a hold of one of those trivia books at a truck-stop somewhere and quickly became fascinated with the flagpole-sitting fad of the early century, but he was scared of heights and just wandered into the Keith’s hotel room and perched atop Keith’s semi-conscious body. Bobby had set a world record for Keith-sitting (14 minutes, except for when he got up and wandered around looking for…
Regardless of whom he was signing the book for, Phil refused to inscribe anything but “You’re a strong independent woman who don’t need no man, Phil Lesh.”