The best-case scenario is that the glass shatters in my face! How do you think that makes me feel?

I'm obsessed with the form of a toolbox. The idea of a portable kit that has everything you might need ignites something inside me. It's like Batman's utility belt.

My advice is keep your lips away from the spinning things.

After all those years of doing remote detonations, where we just push a button and something explodes, to actually see a nice big fat line of black smoke heading toward something that will blow up is very satisfying.

I have concluded through careful empirical analysis and much thought that somebody is looking out for me, keeping track of what I think about things, forgiving me when I do less than I ought. Giving me strength to shoot for more than I think I’m capable of. I believe they know everything that I do and think, and they still love me, and I’ve concluded, after careful consideration, that this person keeping score is me.

Let's get on our knees and pray. I don't know to whom. Is there a patron saint of ballistics gel?

There's few things that get you over your own crap more than working hard.