Zack: Jon Heder was a fool to think he could win this, the Most Dangerous Game.
Dr. Thorpe: Is this head compatible with the male Realdoll? If it doesn't have authentic penetratable orifices with ultrasuck technology, I'm not buying it.
Zack: Oh man, those things are terrible. I learned the hard way that you're supposed to wash them once in the dishwasher BEFORE you rim out their asshole.
Dr. Thorpe: No kidding, it took me a week of eating nothing but cinnamon Jolly Ranchers before I got the new car smell out of my mouth.
Zack: Another quick tip: don't store those things next to a radiator. I left my beloved Vanessa sitting next to my radiator and half of her melted like candle wax right into the carpet. Horrible mess and I still get cat hairs in my mouth when I'm having sex with her.
Dr. Thorpe: I chopped my Realdoll into pieces and buried her in the woods after I caught her fooling around with Stretch Armstrong. Why, Stretch? You were my best friend.
Zack: I don't know what I would do if Vanessa cheated on me. Technically we have an open relationship; we just haven't decided to see anyone else yet.
Dr. Thorpe: I have no idea why people pay so much for those when the same amount of money will get you a fully functional wife in most countries.
Zack: Yeah, but how many of those countries will let you ship your wife freight to your hotel when you go on a business trip? Probably fewer than half of them.
Dr. Thorpe: If you're worried about the durability and lasting value of your purchase, you need only go to a less scrupulous country and get yourself a nice child bride. They take a while to break in, but it's like adding ten years to your investment!
Zack: I'm sorry to disagree, child brides are completely overrated. Not only do you have to feed and water them, but you also have to teach them things like not to touch the stove when it's hot and not to cry until after you've left the room. On the other hand, they sure love America, and I think patriotism is an important component to a successful relationship.
Dr. Thorpe: I'll gladly admit that we ought to be ashamed of ourselves at this point, but not half as ashamed as person making a Napoleon Dynamite reference in 2006 ought to be.
Zack: These days it would just be a disgrace to be date raped by Napoleon Dynamite after a college Halloween party. "Uhhhh no thanks losers, I'm headed next door to the Phi Cap house. I hear there's a guy in a pizza costume who will hover over me refilling my drink until I pass out."
Dr. Thorpe: "He says he's gonna have a boat in three years because of his real estate stuff. Where's your master plan, nerd? Oh, a botany degree? Yeah, that's gonna pay off big, Mr. Making Shit From Plants, gimme a call in ten years when I've retired with pizza dude and we're out on the Riviera playing mini-golf on his yacht."
Zack: Boy is she going to be surprised when the other shoe drops and she's forced to cancel her Botox treatments that she has scheduled eight years in advance with Doctor Epstein. "Epstein is a miracle worker. They say he gets all of his botulism from caviar."
Dr. Thorpe: I've always wanted rich women to look more like leather transsexuals, and my dream has come alive!
Zack: I really love Botox. I've been saying for years that rich people should have deadly poison injected into their stupid faces, and now they're paying to do it.
it's hard to shake the feeling that I've always got five stars in this Grand Theft Auto known as life.
Now, inexplicably, season three is looming over us like some sort of dome. Season one's plot asked whether or not the town could get out from under the dome. Apparently the answer was "no". Season two asked "I guess we're really stuck, huh?" and the answer was "yup".
Fashion SWAT... the fashion industry is obsessed with impracticality. We know that what designers create was never meant to be worn by the grimy masses, but that doesn't somehow diminish how ridiculous many of these costumes are. Make no mistake, they are costumes, and like a Halloween prize pageant we will turn our discerning gaze on the grievous fashion misfires of Paris, Milan, and New York. We're not pulling any punches, and we're definitely not interested in making any friends. We're Joan Rivers without Melissa Rivers to temper our screeching. We're the Fashion Police in jack boots. We are Fashion SWAT.