Ted Pillow

Now, I know what you’re thinking — didn’t Shakespeare die in like the 17th century? Well, apparently not. Dude e-mails me all the time with NFL wagers and fantasy football tips.

Don’t bother reading past the second week of assignments and class topics; sure, it’s filled with seemingly important dates and course expectations, but that sounds like something for some indeterminate, future version of you to worry about.

Okay, Howie, A.J., Brian, Nick, and Kevin (especially Kevin); alright. I’ll show you the meaning of being lonely. But I think you already know it.

It’s like whoever used to design their layouts stopped showing up to work in 1993 and the editors just haven’t noticed yet.

Seeing two loose horses barreling unimpeded down a quiet street is a good way to shatter the familiar surface of glassy ennui encasing your typical Monday morning.

“On a scale of 1 to 10, would you rather be racist or gay?”

Don’t go catching the bouquet or the garter — the bride and groom would probably prefer that their wedding memories consist of people that they’ve known for longer than 45 minutes.

Have been in Brooklyn for approximately three hours and already have sweeping, naïve ideas for improving it drastically.

Warning: A drinking game in which you drink every time I write McDonald’s in this piece would be both dangerous and fun.

So the bathroom is most likely found in one of the back corners of the bar, where it has seemingly been hidden by the owners in an attempt to prevent you from ever finding it.

The advance word from critics, many of whom have already released reviews, is very strong, including high praise from Time, Variety, Rolling Stone, and The Hollywood Reporter.

Motivated by curiosity, boredom, and whatever the hell else it is that inspires scientists to do science-y things, a team of researchers from across the globe has released a scale for determining the quality of a band name.

Worst of all, Royal Emperor Tronald Dump has declared a prohibition on Pepsi, the country’s most cherished beverage and sole reason for continued existence. Sounds like a job for… Pepsi Jesus!

But, for all its derivation, Family Guy has its own unmistakable flavor, present in Ted’s odd obsession with the fringes of pop culture (Flash Gordon and Tom Skerritt), its flippant mockery of homosexuality/ women/non-whites (MacFarlane would probably say he’s mocking bigotry towards those groups, but it’s a fine line), and its unexpected bursts of violence.

Stop breathing so damn heavily. This isn’t phone sex. Unless you’re interviewing for a phone sex operator position… then, uh, good job with the breathing. It sounds pretty authentic.

Summers was eminently likeable and surprisingly funny, but in a way where it wouldn’t have been totally shocking to find him hitting on some family’s mom and/or older sister during a commercial break.

I used to have a sociology professor who taught his classes to remind themselves of their infinitesimal place in the Universe, as well as of their fleeting existences (he must have been a hit at academic mixers). His advice for stress was to remind oneself, “One day, I will die, and none of this will matter.”

Singing about your room as a refuge from the world — a place where you are free to cry and share secrets — is an emphatically effective way of revealing yourself to be a nerdy virgin; let’s just say that the bedroom in question didn’t sound like it had a lot of guests.