Jesus, the requisites for handing out lifetime passes has become lax.

My girlfriend has a seashell tattooed on her inner thigh, and I swear, if you put your ear to it, you can smell the ocean.

And here I was, ready to settle for a 'Splosion Man of chick-lit.

Pray Tell, you have told the joke of the day. Bask.

I misread your middle paragraph as "the faggy Italian countryside," and your comment inadvertently became the funniest thing I've seen this morning.

SEX!
Now that I have your attention, vote for the Reverend P.F. McSmearbritches!

DON'T STOP.

—The Talented Pr. Edator

I love Predator, and would consider marrying it.
It's the manliest goddamned movie I've ever seen.

When's the lawsuit due?
You know, from the producers of that porn flick starring Bill S. Preston, Esq.?

Not to mention that Zabka didn't hear all of Chevy's sentence on the studio lot years later, when he suggested that Zabka needed a good Western-style lynching.

I never said it was pleasant.

The punch is great, but the moment that kills me every time is Dave's incredulous expression as he approaches Bill in the immediate aftermath. I can't watch that without coming apart at the seams.

"The next one will be shorter, I promise."
My sign-off line for every woman I've slept with.

Subtle scene intro…
…to the Marie handjob scene, that I noticed on the encore episode playing just now; her hands slowly wringing out the rolled-up wet cloth, directly in the foreground of the shot.

It's semantic, but if we're tallying folks he's indirectly responsible for killing, there are about two 737's worth of falling dead to consider from last year's season finale.

I've had far too much Hennessey to make sense of this thread.

And yet this shtick somehow contains twelve or thirteen times the entertainment value of Zodiac Motherfucker.

Come on, now. We're not here to talk nonsense to Bob Loblaw.

Wait, Andy Dick does drugs?