Ted: What the hell is "the sexless innkeeper"?
Barney: Ted, many a man - nay, many a soul - has their own tale of the sexless innkeeper. Why, I had run-in with one just last year. I even composed a poem about it. Would you care to hear it?
Ted: Not really.
Barney: T'was the night before New Year's, and the weather grew mean. It was 3:00 in the morning, and I was stranded in Queens. The tavern grew empty, the gas lights grew dim. The horse-drawn carriages were all but snowed in...
Ted: Wait. If this was last year, why are you acting like it was Oliver Twist?
Barney: Ted, it's a poem. Last call was approaching, and my fortunes looked bleak. Then I turned to my left and stifled a shriek. She had a peach fuzz beard and weighed 16 stone. She gobbled up hot wings and swallowed the bones. I muffled a scream and threw up in my mouth. I asked, "Where do you live?" And she said, "One block south." I swallowed my pride and six shots of whiskey, and prayed to the Gods that she wasn't too frisky. Back in her cave, she prepared us a snack. 'neath her mighty hooves, the floorboards did crack. But when she returned, she found a sound sleeper. And thus she became the sexless innkeeper.

Ted: Hey, Barney. I got a little poem for you. You want to hear it?
Barney: No, not really.
Ted: 'twas the night before, I had hours to kill. I sat in the tavern, grading parchments with quill.
Barney: With quill?
Ted: Barney, it's a poem. A busty, young lassie flashed me a grin. Her garb said "classy," but her eyes whispered "sin." She said, "You're a teacher?" I said, "Yes, indeed." "I must have you," she moaned, "I'm turned on by tweed." With haste we did scamper to my chamber anon. We fell to the couch, and, bro, it was on. I unlaced her bodice. Our passions grew deeper. And thus ends the tale of the sexless innkeeper.
Barney: No way. You made that up.
[A blonde woman comes out of Ted's bedroom]
Woman: Are you coming back bed, professor?

Future Ted: [v.o.] It was true. Marshall had become addicted to creating songs and photo montages documenting various mundane events. So for months, all of Marshall's friends and professional colleagues were getting e-mails like this...
[Ted plays a series of video montages from Marshall featuring songs]
Marshall: [singing] Ordered Chinese food today Some moo shu pork sauce got away Flipped the cushion, Now everything's okay.
Marshall: [singing] Cat sitting for Lily's mom, Cat sitting for Lily's mom, It's gonna be fun, It's gonna bring us all closer together. [In one of the pictures, the cat is seen climbing out the window]
Marshall: [singing] Cat funeral, Cat funeral, It was an accident And not entirely my fault, Cat funeral, Meow, meow, meow, meow, Cat funeral, meow, meow, meow, meow. We'll miss you, Whiskers. Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow...