You don't say.
Vince liked to keep all his chips in one long row. Anything else seemed unnatural.
Jen knew she should probably go the hospital with her broken neck, but she couldn't tear herself away from the horror of other people singing.
Andy's plan to photograph every passenger was going remarkably well. Although Dorothy yelling "Show us your tits!" to the women certainly wasn't making it easy for him.
Sean prepares for his deep sea dive into dorkdom.
Bradley toasts us with his 5th beer. After which he lost the power of coherent speech.
Paka: How come one of these says 'Turpentine'? Is that a new brand of vodka?
Dorothy wasn't sure how Andria made those noises, but she hoped she'd never stop.
Woman: Ah 2001, it was a good year. Wait...no it wasn't. Now 2003...2003 I could have written a tawdry romance novel about...
The Golden Gate...um....hmm, it's not a tunnel. Or a thoroughfare, I give up.
This is a banana slug. Tasted more like a pear though.
Phil: ..and this is the end that magically sucks in the picture. Just don't let it get near your pecker, if you know what's good for ya.
Never interrupt zombies in the middle of a feeding.
Presenter: You too can lose weight! Sure, you'll go bald. Sure, your wife will leave you. Sure, your penis will turn colors. But c'mon people; thin is in!
