Which sounds suspiciously like I'm bleeding out of my eyes, which I did not intend to imply. I shall move on.

Not much is known about the creator of this track, other than that he sampled the Cornell Chorus for the vocals, mixed it all together in Acid Music using prerecorded music loops, and used to live at 1024 Stewart Ave. in a very small apartment which, while cute, had a mold and carpenter bee problem at the same time. Also, he's about 6'1" and weighs about 150 pounds while wet and wearing boots. Also, he goes by the name of MC Ezra. You can check out the original music packaging at MC Ezra's website:

http://www.rso.cornell.edu/skits/mcezra.html

First of all, let me clarify one thing. Don't expect me to apologize just because you asked me this question 4.5 months ago. I can take as long as I please to answer questions about sleeping with me. Frankly, I always need several weeks to ponder my proposals, which is why I can't ever go to bars. One time, a woman in a club offered me a ride home (to HER home if you know what I mean), and she waited outside that club for eight years while I went to get my coat. But it was well worth the wait, because when I finally came out of the club, we were married! Ah, the 80s ruled.

Aaanyway, back to the question about sleeping with me. What does a girl have to do? Hm. Well, for starters, you may need to buy me a bed. My apartment was just destroyed (true but not entirely unfunny story), and my old IKEA mattress ain't looking too good. I can link you to a few good mattress-buying sites if you like. In general, I sleep best on a mattress that's firm but not too firm. Full is good but queen is better. King is way too big. Get me a king-size bed and you'll never see me again. Probably because I'll be way on the other side of our enormous bed.

In fact, if you'd like to buy me a whole new apartment, let's just say that would definitely win you a few points. I would prefer an apartment in the exact same location as the one that just collapsed last weekend. Studios are good but one-bedrooms are better.

Now, about this pie crust issue - let's just get this out of the way right now. In any relationship, it has to be me who makes the pie crust, or else it just won't feel right to me. I always appreciate it when girls offer to make the pie crust, but I tend to get very critical of other people's pie crust technique. And I eat lots of pies, so in the long run, you women can all skip a lot of grief with me by just sitting back and letting me make the crust. I swear I'll let you make the filling. Sometimes.

• Scenario 1: Nothing happens. Hell doesn't exist. In this scenario, life continues as normal, because frankly you people who believe in hell are crazy and deserve to go there, except you won't go there, because it doesn't exist.
  
  
• Scenario 2: When there is no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth. This is called the Romero Scenario, where hell becomes so full (or, in this case, full of ice), that when people die, they just wake up and start munching on brains. This is not considered an ideal scenario.
  
  
• Scenario 3: Hell becomes Heaven. Honestly, I'm sure given time the demons could devise some sort of ice-torture, but for a while, all you damned souls are having a gay old time ice skating and drinking hot cocoa. At this point, people would probably hear how cool Hell was, pun intended, and start killing themselves to get there, what with the unlimited sledding potential. So the world would probably be a lot emptier. But then, more cheese for me, so do what you like.
  
  
• Scenario 4: Hell becomes even worse. The demons devise some sort of ice-torture VERY QUICKLY, and are awesomely good at it. They are demons, after all, and this is what they do. Having just spent the past weekend in Chicago, I can tell you that cold is, in some ways, worse than hot. Although in some ways, better. I'll leave it to the demons to figure out.
  
  
• Scenario 5: You become lonely. There's a famous saying, "Hell is other people," and in an ironic twist, it turns out to be true, and everybody else but you freezes over. This is not a fun scenario, except for the first few days when you run around smashing all of your enemies.
  
  
• Scenario 6: Bob Marley-sicles. Hell, which is the name of a small town in Jamaica, freezes over. Then, quickly melts, because seriously, it is so warm and beautiful in Jamaica, ice melts like that. That being a snap of my fingers, which, it turns out, is hard to convey through the written word.
  
  

That's right, we're asking you all out on a comedy date. Granted you'll probably have already seen a lot of the material, but we're quite excited to be performing at a "real club" and would therefore really like to have you show up to support us, since you'll likely be in town anyway. (Also, we get more time to perform if we bring in an audience - sure it's shameless self-promotion, but we also really like you guys. At least I do. The rest of the group said they think you're a bunch of jerks. But don't tell them I told you. In fact, forget I said that.)

It's probably going to be, from what we've been told, a 5 or 10 dollar cover and a two-drink minimum, but in return, you get to heckle us in our first "real club" performance, as well as see your metaphorical comedy offspring grow up before your very eyes. And you can't put a price on that. But if you could it'd be 5-10 bucks and two drinks.

• A short forceful exhalation of breath.