Millians, Inc.

Clare’s cake. It’s either a bunny rabbit, or an homage to Lady Tottington. Maybe both?

Just tell me where the eggs are, old man, and no one gets hurt!

Last time we sign up for the Easter Egg Hunt at the prison, I can tell you that. Too depressing.

Dude. It’s called Hydrolyze. Look into it.

What…is the capital of Assyria? 

Well, I’ll ask him, but I don’t think he’ll be very keen. Uh, he’s already got one, you see?

I gotta get in shape now. Too much sittin’ is ruinin’ my body. Too much abuse has gone on for too long. From now on, it will be fifty push-ups each morning, fifty pull-ups. There’ll be no more pills, there’ll be no more bad food, no more destroyers of my body. From now on, it will be total organization. Every muscle must be tight.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair. Oh, sorry. Do you have a ladder, by chance?

Chilax, dad. It’s 5 o’clock somewhere, right? So top me off, old man!

A young Alex, circa 1975 methinks, in snow. Compare and contrast.

Wondering where to buy $150 tire chains at 6pm in a small town? There’s an app for that.

Mary watches her kick-ass husband take advantage of the ski in/ski out chalet condo Motel 6. That, or Bigfoot has learned to ski.

Olivia and Mary on the bunny slope. Mary was still a bit winded from writhing on the ground for 3 minutes after she fell exiting the people mover.

Olivia and Nolan, a very patient—and handsomely tipped—ski instructor.

Alex, rocking the hell of out his dad’s disco vintage Bogner onesie singlet ski suit. Take *that*, Roger Moore circa 1977!