I was about to ask how someone could afford a basement in NYC, much less a basement full of ears, but then I realized the answer must be in the question.

...what a goddamn shame...so desperate for someone to say everything’s gonna be alright...makes me wish it weren’t raining today....

When this cab driver gets me home, it will be homemade beer and begging my cat’s forgiveness for daring to leave town for a week.

BEACH WEEK!

...it does.

You only get one, ‘cause you’re being rude.

You naughty person.

...oh, TWITS! Twits.

Which woman card, specifically? The High Priestess? The Nine of Pentacles? The Ace of Spades? Why do these candidates never delve into the important specifics?

Meanwhile, I’m positive most of those signatures belong to Mike Litoris or Amanda Blomi.

Ask North Carolina how “taking care of morality" has helped their economy...

Him and Siskel, yes. Now I think it’s Roeper and whomever had their flight canceled that day.

This is where I hope I never have a son/nephew, because I don’t want to accidentally walk in on him humping a handbag.

They’re grappling with Buttmunchausen. Same-same, only different.

like a pile of laundry on top of another pile of laundry.

So, reverse cowgirl is unAmerican?

Moist Caprese Salads is the name of my Apples in Stereo cover band.

Ah, Veteran’s Day...

One of the best parties I’ve ever been to was in an 8x11 efficiency apartment. 20 people, lots of booze, Christmas wreaths, and German techno music.