Garrett: “I realize it isn’t quite the same thing, but one time up in Canyon City, Jimmy Baio, Jackie Earle Haley, and I were so high from huffing model glue that we actually rummaged through a Quizno’s dumpster for an overtoasted cheese steak , then cut it with a handful of ground-up Sudafed and snorted it.  Tasted just like chicken!  Or maybe Lauren Tewes’ squeezebox, if you can believe Baio.

Fonda:  “Well, to be honest with you, man, while I totally dig the, like, enormous leeway of her message, her voice always makes my balls kinda climb up inside my abdomen.  And you gotta admit, four years is an awful long time to have to walk around with your balls inside your abdomen, just so you can prove to people that you’re hip to the idea of a lady president.

Garrett: “Say, you think this Klein dude would be willing to front me some of whatever the hell it is he’s snorting?  Because seriously, I could probably cut it with cornstarch and turn a 400% profit for him—and that’s just by selling it to Cameron Diaz and Gwenyth Paltrow alone.  Provided I can get past the gates, of course. “Truth is, I hear Gwen’s still pretty mad at me for

Garrett:  “I dunno.  Instead of surrendering your park to a bunch of construction paper cutouts, why not just cowboy up and take the fight to them?  You know—like, hire somebody to doodle up a battalion of cartoon National Guardsmen to go all Kent State on their little punk asses?” “I mean, that’s what Stan Lee would do.  If he was younger.  And as totally hopped up on Greenies as I

Garrett:  “Meh.  Who cares.  Unless—wait a sec, are those the ones who, like, offer ‘treatment’ vouchers for methadone and a free place to shack up while I’m getting my load on?  Because if so, that would be so totally the tits, man!”

Garrett:  “I’m not much into the Scientology myself, but I did once cut a half-dozen Paxils with a line of Flake, and I gotta admit, for a few moments there, that shit had me believing in space aliens, too. “Not only that, but it cost less than joining the Church, and there were no funny hats involved—unless you count waking up on Mulholland with a passed out Adrian Zmed sitting

Garrett:  “Bitchin’.  Now if some geek can whip together a study showing that firing the ack ack gun is a boon to prostate health, maybe I can buy myself a quiet pardon from Conan and get back to making people happy with my music.”* **** (h/t Terry Hastings)

Elizabeth:  “Let me put it this way:  sometimes its best to keep your most effective assets hidden from enemy eyes.  And their ears, too—if your enemies happen to be creepy little fetishists like David Spade.  “Which, there’s a night I’d rather not revisit, if it’s all the same to you…”* **** (h/t Eric Akawie)

Fonda: “All I’ll say on the matter is this:  In ‘75 or thereabouts, I had a nice steak dinner with Frank Church, and the shit he laid on me about COINTELPro—the extent, man, to which the government was watching us—made the hair on my nipples stand on end.  I mean, would you want Tricky Dick and his kinky First Lady wife getting their freak on to wire taps of Sylvia

Garrett:  “All’s I know is, had Dean or Pelosi trotted out this same line of bullshit as an excuse to pull out of rehab, the judge would’ve slapped them with a parole violation—forcing them to unload smack from their private stashes and hock their Vespas just so they could afford to pay their shyster lawyers’ attorney fees.  “Trust me on this.”* **** related