Just be glad you escaped his Syphy.

And leather and horse sweat. In a good way!

Too late on my part, it seems.

Don't listen to his sweet talk, Reck. One minute he's all "oh baby I can explain" and then it's "oh I'm going to change I swear" and then he "forgets" the safe word and then his Tinglerz are gone and you are left only with your tears.

You're all wrong - he's the lost Schrute brother.

Your needs? YOUR needs? I have a need for you to get my name right, for one thing. (Rubs forehead) Is this about the whips? Because you knew my opinion on that when we started all this. I think we just need to talk.

I feel like you have to have been through a lot of crappy city council/park and rec/school board meetings to get the jokes in that one. Which I have, actually, and they can be really entertaining. So pretty much it will be me and the other loony local activists/bored reporters watching this.

Pop rocks are the devil's candy
I hate Pop Rocks. CANDY IS NOT SUPPOSED TO HURT YOU. That's not just me, right?

FINE. See if I care. I have a headache anyway.

the Tinglerz bag
if Ecstasy came in a kid- and convenience store-friendly snack pack, the packaging would look just like that Tinglerz bag. That little Oompa Loompa on the side there? Total raver.

… I thought it was funny. So that makes two of us.

It sounds like a WWII fighter pilot's name. Colonel Hurwitzer! I got bogeys on your 20! Or something.

Aww! You all take such good care of me. I think I'll stick around. (I'm a whore for nachos, is what I'm saying here.)

Anything but canned apple pie filling, darling. And if you can work some chocolate in there somewhere, I'll make it worth your while.

Yeah, sorry, it was dark and I wasn't sure what I was reaching for. I bet we could hold it for ransom.

Don't worry about me, honey! He had shoved me in the oven, Hansel and Gretel-style, but at the very last minute a colony of feral bats tried to escape from his utility closet by chewing through the power lines and it shut off power for his whole building. I made a run for it, along with the gimp from the basement, but…

Are you kidding me? If someone paid me to go on TV and talk about my cooking five days a week I would totally do it. And it would be a hit. "Today, folks, we're going to sit in bed and eat peanut butter out of the jar while watching Battlestar Galactica! Stay tuned for tomorrow morning, when we'll consume nothing but…

Holy shit, I'm going to die alone. Or rather, with only the curlers in my hair to keep me company. Because curlers are for lonely whores.

Yeah, I can't judge here. I have no patience for cooking, and I will eat just about anything. Meaning that when I'm too poor to order in, my nights are filled with canned pasta sauce, peanut butter toast, Hint of Lime Doritos and Hostess Fruit Pies. Oh, and copious amounts of Diet Coke. Separately, though! At least…

Cool, I was going to check them out just because the name "Clem Snide" is AWESOME, but now that I hear they're good I have that much more motivation to seek them out.