The Unnatural

Scully:  [accusing] Mulder!?  You cheat.  I can't believe that you've been reading about baseball this whole time. Mulder:  I'm reading the box scores, Scully.  You'd like it.  It's like the Pythagorean Theorem for jocks.  It distills all the chaos and action of any game in the history of all baseball games into one tiny, perfect, rectangular sequence of numbers.  I can look at this box and I can recreate exactly what happened on some sunny summer day back in 1947.  It's like the numbers talk to me, they comfort me.  They tell me that even though lots of things can change some things do remain the same.  It's... Scully:  [interrupting] Boring.

My sentiments exactly.  No wonder Mulder's not had a date in so long.  If that's his idea of showing a girl a good time he's destined to remain single forever.

General Punkesque Behavior

Dragging Scully to the basement on a Saturday to look up death records while he reads old box scores.  If he wanted to spend time with Scully why didn't he just ask her out?

It's not nice to say "ugh" to someone else's food.  (Although I have to say I agree with the sentiment.  Fat free tofutti rice dreamcicle?  Yuck!

Stealing a bite of Scully's dreamcicle after he declared that the air in his mouth tasted better:  There had to be a better way to test his "the air in my mouth tastes better" theory.

Ripping the page out of the book:  What was it too much effort to make a photocopy?

A Saturday Mulderditch:  After ripping the page out of the book, Mulder runs out of the office without offering any explanation to Scully.

Cheap bastard!  If he really wanted to do something nice for Scully (say to make up for ditching her at the office) he could have just taken her out to dinner or something instead of teaching her to play baseball.

Nice piece of ash Mulder?  That joke is so juvenile!