I'd rather bang Michael J.

Go away. 'Batin.

Oh, you guys are talking sports, eh? Yeah, sports.

This is actually an archival post from 2000, just before soce sold the "Yes, Dear" pilot and made millions.

If not, I'm assuming The L Word will slide right up there.

I can't bear to watch baseball.

INDICATE YOU HEARD ME.

Well, once you miss a piece of the plot, you spend the rest of the flick asking everyone around you why things are happening the way they are. I'd be pissed, too.

Paperback Purportedly Purloins Previously Palsied Pulchritude!

Hey, Leno's got to get his balls licked somewhere.

Hey, hey, come on now. There's a line, and you've crossed it. No matter how poor your esteem for a man, wishing tool ill on him is just gauche.

(sings into a hairbrush)

Isn't that the band that made Paul McCartney a household name?

Goddamnit, who threw a lipstick party and didn't give me an invitation?

He's bookending his earlier work. Consider this "The Island of Dr. Morose."

I've been called both of those things.

Val is looking a big haggard, but he's working through his demons.

Oh, sure, and I suppose it was NASA that gave you the clap too, eh?

Dude, eleven-year-olds get all the pussy.

It was just an extremely optimistic forecast for the future of HawthoRNe.