Brian Donovan

There are two laws that every TV show must follow. Both have a million variations, adjustments, and gradations in how they are obeyed, but they are sacred and unavoidable. The rules, as they say, are undefeated.

Why would I even think that you’re asking how many people I’ve had romantic kisses with including THE ONES THAT I’M RELATED TO? That number’s definitely gonna be zero, right?

“What’s in my Bag”: A regular US Weekly segment where a celebrity catalogues the items that can be found in their purse. Minus the blow and the crumpled-up Macauley Culkin phone number, of course.

It took me three trailer viewings and an hour of Thunderstruck research to figure out if this movie was actually real — and even now, I’m not convinced.

We’re not gonna make it to March without that uncomfortable feeling you get from watching what you think is an exciting sexual encounter, but turns out to actually be super creepy incest.

A drink so sour that after you sip it, your face twists and contorts into the exact same expression I get when I turn on the legitimate news and am confronted with an update on the Kristen Stewart Robert Pattinson situation.

FedEx Kinko’s is America’s premiere destination for copies, presentations, and business printing. Yet whenever I go in there, it feels like the store could be more efficiently run by puppies and easily confused clowns.

I wanna confess, not to something I did, but to something I’m definitely going to do. You see, I’m going to kill my personal trainer Tony, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.

Dan hands him a giant bag full of Chick-fil-A chicken sandwiches. God rips into the bag and starts eating.

It’s a strange feeling, opening your closet every morning and seeing a bunch of crappy clothes, and then one super-nice suit that isn’t really an option unless you kinda wanna look like an idiot.

Your instinct is to feel bad for my cat, but seriously, don’t. She’ll be fine. She just has to swallow some vitamins everyday — the one to feel bad for is me, because I’m the one that’s gotta make her do it.

I mean, if Netflix knows everything about us, how we’ll react and respond to a variety of stimuli, why are we wasting this power on a movie? I say it’s time we put Netflix in charge of our entire lives.