bby: I. Don't. Give. A. Fuck. About your life.

: I've never been so drunk I couldn't drive. I've been so drunk I couldn't climb stairs. I've been so drunk I couldn't get my fly open and instead I tried to pee down my leg through the cuff. But I've always been able to drive home afterwards. So, I'm pretty cooked... but it's a freeway. Who can fuck up a freeway? I mean you get on the ramp and off you go. But, then, the worlds full of ass holes and sure enough about six miles from my house I net one of them. He's driving north on the south road, high beams on, screaming toward me. I swerve left and this wing nut swerves left, we meet at the guard rail. I end up in a plaster suite and this sauce banker bastard who guzzled down one too many at his country club's social, miracusally drives ten miles the wrong way, without another car in sight, like he's looking for me, sends me through the windscreen, into the arms of friendly Officer Walters and my step pop. I don't think the prick even spilled his drink.

yllis: You started smoking? : Ma, I just spent the last six months detoxing in a ward with sixty cocaine junkies and a ping pong table. You gotta understand, it got a little tense in there.

: There was this rumor goin around when we were kids that if you ate a mouth full of Pop Rocks and washed it down with soda, your stomach would explode. It was supposed to have happened to that kid, Mikey, from the cereal commercial. We're shooting the shit about it in Bobby Raven's tree house and before you know it I'm coming back from the store with a sixer of RC and a baggie of Pop Rocks. So, I'm up there with my last fucking supper and everybody's looking at me, kindda with their eyes half closed, not sure if they really wanna see a stomach explode. I make some half assed nine year old toast and down I go with a full baggie of Pop Rocks and half a can of soda. It got really quite, not a sound, we waited... waited like five minutes. I guess in the end we all felt really jipped.

bby: Things change... even out here in bumble-fuck-ville things change.

. Charlie: JJ, they're your family. : My family is the best reason I can think to drink myself into a coma.

. Charlie: [trying to talk JJ into pill-assisted suicide] It's peaceful, it's quite : I've never done anything peaceful and quite my whole life.

: Every summer when school let out, we had this Sandlot game of baseball. It was sixth grade or seventh grade, it was pretty good natured. Clean and fun, you know, it was just fun. There were no coaches, there was no fathers screaming at his kid like New Rockney from the bleachers, there were no parents and no pressure, and we governed ourselves pretty civilized. But then, one day in the middle of July we're all out there and someone shows up with a twelve pack they nicked from their folk's fridge. It was a brand new ball game, baby. The next time, we got somebody's big brother to buy us a case, by the end of the month we had a fucking keg on home plate. Soon we discovered we didn't need to bring balls and a bat anymore. I mean, sure it was fun - but think how much fun it'd be if we were drunk, or high, or stoned. It wasn't just baseball, going to the movies, watching TV, or having sex. And that's what growing up was, it just got harder and harder to have a good time.

: It was a brand new ball game, baby.

: And that's what growing up was, it just got harder and harder to have a good time.