I don't even OWN an IMAX television.

There's a story I remember from years ago (which I am in no way, shape, or form attempting to google at work) about some dude who had two teenage girls in his shop and told them that he was going to give them free face cream but they had to be blindfolded to receive it so they wouldn't be biased in knowing whether…

Yeah, you know, you try to get two-three gallons of pineapple juice in a day in the few days leading up to an expected semen exchanging experience.

Does that actually work? I've never done a double-blind taste test or anything, but I've never gotten complimented on my flavour after drinking gallons of pineapple juice pre-coitus.

CALL ME! ON THE LINE CALL ME CALL ME ANY ANY TIME

Luise Rainer died! Where's the obit!

Actually, 1995 me got WAY better looking girls than 2015 me. Time, it is a motherfucker.

I actually was trying to log in to Playstation Network this weekend to rent The Interview on Youtube, which made me realize that 1995 me would have no idea what it is that my life consists of.

And thank you for appreciating me! Now I feel all tingly. Seriously. Thank you.

I'm around, here and there! No giving up on the A.V. Club for me!

By definition, no.

I'm sorry you had to go through that, and that they felt they had to go through that. I actually always get suicidal this time of year. It's a thing with me.

Wait, you're only 19? Jesus, I'm old.

Oh, I'm an atheist, I'm just a big fan of that line "He came from an island and he died from the street, and he hurt so bad like a soul breaking, but he never said nothing to me" and I feel like that would be a great moment to jump.

I might play "Say Hello to Heaven" when I kill myself. Still thinking that one over.

Nabin will somehow spend $50,000 on this free cruise and then write a 10,000 word article in The New Yorker about how traumatized he is that he has to pay back $20,000 of it after his credit card company asks him politely for it.

Whitman, Pryce, and Hadad!
Last year's winners?
No. Last year's losers.

As my doctor always says, "I'm gonna make you squeeeeeaaaallll like a pig, boy!"

… actually, there probably isn't.

I'll be honest with you; I'd fuck Buck Angel. In the vagina.