Thumb: You look like hell.

Gusset: That's a fine howdy do.

Thumb: Just callin' 'em as I sees 'em.

G: Well, just so you know, I feel lower than whale sh*t.

T: What happened?

G: I dunno. M1Ls, M1Rs, holes all over the place. Then she tried covering it all up with little stitches on the inside. Look at me! I look like I've been through a winter with a six-year-old.

T: You're right. You look terrible.

G: You don't look so hot yourself.

T: Whaddya mean? I've got a nice, pretty purl bind off.

G: Yeah, but you’re in a weird place. You're too close to Index Finger. You're twisting the whole mitt off to the side.

T: Is that it? I knew I was feeling a little off balance. (Beat) Think she's frog us?

G: Crap shoot. Last night she was pretty pissed.

T: Too bad, so sad. We’re the one’s paying for her mistakes.

G: What do you think it means that she took a picture?

T: Blog fodder. That's all we are to her. Blog fodder.