Well-choreographed zombies with really good makeup.

The idea that someone, somewhere, ever found him endearing chills me to the marrow.

Not if you’ve got any birthday parties coming up.

Not much, but more than I’d like.

No hate, just re-branding resistance.

No. Well, as far as I know, no. Never seen it.

Oh, sure. Carl can do no wrong. Carl wriggles in frosting and it’s all balloons and confetti, but I so much as get arrested for selling glue to minors just once, and it’s a BIG FREAKIN’ DEAL. Why don’t you show up for Thanksgiving next year instead of me? You’d fit riiiight in.

“In a fluorescent-lit office break room, a strangely familiar, muscular young man sets down a cake box and glances about, nervously. It’s his first day and he wants to make a good first impression, but the cake is calling to him, and... wait, CARL??”

There’s just something icky about it. Like finding out your stepbrother does cake-sitting porn. You don’t want to judge, and no one’s getting hurt, but still.

Action Hero John Krasinski really needs to go away. I’d believe Action Hero Pam Beesly or Super Assassin Meredith Palmer more.

Très jolie, Coco. Très jolie.

And this is how the world ends: not with a bang, but a sloppy, inaccurate Hamilton reference. O TRAGIC WORLD WE HARDLY KNEW... wait, wut?

I kinda like ‘em, in moderation.

I feel sorry for the fully-nosed, I do. They can’t help it if they’re repellent.

My eyes are each the same size as my pouty mouth. Don’t sit near me, you sound deformed.

Based on the image above, she should be played by someone noseless.