Zack: It must suck getting your older brother's hand-me-downs when he's eight feet tall and has a goiter the size of a watermelon.
Dr. Thorpe: Mean huggin'.
Zack: I think this dude needs to get his sweater circumsized.
Dr. Thorpe: He could make a reasonably- sized sweater out of the excess.
Zack: I see all kinds of smegma building up. Oh, my bad, that's just the guy.
Zack: "Yo, man, the cameras are all set up, don't worry about washing your jeans. Nobody is gonna even look at your jeans when they see this sweater!"
Dr. Thorpe: He may look kind of filthy, but keep in mind that you can go a long time without showering in those things because it takes a couple of weeks for smells to start finding their way out.
Zack: There's still a week old fart ricocheting around in the yarn near his armpit.
Dr. Thorpe: They have to wend their merrye way 'round Robin Hood's barn and o'er many rolling fields of cable knit.
Dr. Thorpe: Ohhh, wait a minute, I think we're looking at this wrong. I think what we actually have here is what's known as the Scandinavian Straitjacket.
Zack: I wonder if you threw a bucket of water on him if it would all just roll up into his collar.
Dr. Thorpe: You'd have to throw a lot of buckets before he'd notice. This guy could soak up some medium-sized ponds.
Dr. Thorpe: Nah... too much like bathing.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
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Doing some reps on the water bottle huh. I prefer bench press myself. Just kidding - stay hydrated.
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.