according to Patton Oswalt, she had a bush you could hide a (70s) VCR in.

and I thought *I* had a penchant for digression.

Word is, it's not just the locker room/sauna.
again, this is third hand gossip, but it's apparently a well known fact at that particular gym that he delights in teasing others by "going Swedish".

@hornacek:disqus i was playing off Taylor Negron's name.

yeah, I kept expecting Eric to catch up and eat her.

That comforter really tied the bed together.

Rumors are, Eric already shows it all over his usual gym, casually strolling around naked.  Apparently, it's a Swedish thing? or just the fact this alleged gym is in the heart of San Francisco and he's a total tease?

I think the only Marine funeral I've been to was my (m)grandfather's, who served in the Pacific Theatre, back in 82, and I was having flashbacks to that, but there were no testimonials or anything. still, FEELS, man. I just…I got something in my eye, alright?
(otoh, didn't feel a thing for my father's military…

Yes, and now we wait for the fanfic holodeck sexploits of Bo Duke and Riker. (Boker? Duker? BoWill/WillBo? Bogg?)
of course, there;s some boring het-slash too, I guess. YAWN!
(LOL kidding Frakes!)

You'll never be sorry with a Harwood Lorry!

No ROSEANNE? Seriously, it's like revealed that at least since s2 on, it's ALL her writing!
granted, half the series falls apart with her finale "reveals", but still…!

Do go on.
http://collider.com/wp-cont…

I know not of this thing of which you speak that is forbidden to speak, thereof.

ew, that smell!

Stegron Tailor?

One of the guys in my dad's police department apparently had a nice side income writing those tawdry romance books under a female pseudonym, and edited by his wife. Needless to say, there was no end of heckling.

actually, James looks way too much like (a tall version of) my late father here. creep factor much.

played by John Goodman.

Great. We've got nothing in common and she's got a voice like a tuba. If
she had her way, we'd have sex on a bed of nails on national
television. But at least the party stinks.

Llewyn Davis.