This ain't the Grimm Brothers' Rapunzel either. That's it, I'm locking my daughter in a room with nothing but books until she's eighteen — unless, of course, she can guess my middle name.

They have to supply their own knobs.

You can count me in, Todd. I loved this show when it first aired but have hardly thought of it since, I'd enjoy the stroll down memory lane.

Genevieve Koski doing "Opera or Bust".

"… the woman who stood there, like a squat malevolent totem, implacable and ugly as a polished ivory toad…"

Manic Pixie Douche Bag?

Shit, I know one: the magician guy in "Truly Madly Deeply"! Which also features the woman-specific fantasy figure of the Dead Boyfriend, Husband or Father Who Gently Guides Woman to Greater Self-Fulfillment.

um, "who" cuts…

No, Angela was clearly the boss. I don't care who's wearing the pants, it's all about the cuts the goddamn checks.

Let me say
that not-gay not-that-there's-anything-wrong-with-that Mets catcher Mike Piazza threw like a girl but could hit the ball like a motherfucker, and is possibly my favourite non-Jays player of all time.

Who, dude. "Mountains of Madness" makes "Pym" look inconsequential? I'm speechless. Fucking speechless. (Though not entirely typeless.)

I'll add a vote for MNF. I think they should get four or five of the AVClub writers together, give them a whack of beer, make them watch all eighty-two hours of pre-game show, record their comments, and then force some hapless intern to type them out into some kind of semi-coherent dialogue.

That sweet drunk chick is totally from Transcona.

Yo, Fidel. I have it on completely worthless inside information that Chipman & Co have practically sealed the deal for the Atlanta Thrashers — which, let's face it, is a more interesting team anyway. Oduya! Byfuglien!! A bunch of other guys!!! And that they've sold the Moose to Thunder Bay. Also that cops are…

No, it's a competition.

Don't worry, it says in my notes here that you were firmly the winner, Zack. I winced and squirmed and sympathized through the whole story, especially that awful line about the wings. Yadda yadda only to be turned at long last into a human being again yadda.

This is disappointing. Milan Kundera lied to me.

Isn't Tycho Brahe the guy whose bladder ruptured cause he was too embarrassed to ask to be excused (supposedly at least)? That would be the best episode of anything ever: just fifty-eight minutes of a single camera trained on his increasingly red and sweaty face, real-time countdown clock, then boom! Roll credits. …

>when something she's watching is spectacularly low-budget my mom says; 'This looks Canadian."

I hate to be that guy
but I can't help it: personae, not personas.