Or Anyway, It's Nobody's Fault
"Write yourself a check."
"I don't think you're an asshole, Royal. I just think you're kind of a son of a bitch."
"That's the last time you stab me, do you hear me?"
Happy birthday to old Margot (and belatedly to young Margot).
Richie and Mordecai.
Angela and her college friends, Jeri/Pagoda and Laura/Teenage Margot. (You didn't know Margot was knocked up as a teen, did you? Me neither, but pictures don't lie.)
Royal Tenenbaums (redux)
Guests: Jeri from St. Louis and Laura (and unborn Naomi) from Northampton, MA.
Best costume accessory: Royal's cane
Food: How about that birthday cake? Too bad Laurie went to bed before we could eat it.
How to Talk Like the Tenenbaum You Always Wanted to Be
The Royal Tenenbaums
posted by Hathor @ 7:30 PM
3 comments
3 Comments:
Whether it be nihilists or suicidal characters, Kevin can carry the clothes but not the expression.
Chas: Why'd you shoot me?
Royal: It was the object of the game, wasn't it?
Chas: No. We were on the same team.
Royal: Well, you sued me. Twice. And got me disbarred. But I don't hold it against you, do I?
The hand with the BB lodged under the skin belongs to Andrew Wilson, brother of Owen (who fired the gun--"You shot me!") and Luke.
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