I'm trying to feel terrified and alone. And regret every decision I've ever made, drenched in a cold sweat. It's called going to sleep. Maybe you've heard of it.

Google is ridiculous. Everyone uses Google, and that's why Google has such an attitude. Because it's so popular, it's conceited. I mean, it has a serious attitude. Have you tried misspelling something lately? See the tone that it takes? 'Um, did you mean...?

I fainted last night! Luckily I was going to bed at the time so I didn't get hurt.

Can you imagine if you had a pair of shoes that you could only walk in? That could be kind of limiting under certain circumstances. 'Everybody get outta here! There's a swarm of bees coming!' What? Oh great, I got my walking shoes on today. I guess I better stroll the hell out of here at a moderate pace.

There's no razor in candy. If for no other reason, it doesn't make financial sense. It's not fiscally prudent. How much does a piece of candy cost - like, a penny and a half? An apple's like 15 cents? Anybody here bought a Mach 3 replacement cartridge recently? They're so expensive, they don't even keep them on the shelf. You know, you have to ask the people behind the counter. I feel like I'm trying to buy enriched plutonium or something.

I never smoke grass and drive my car because, for one thing, no matter how many letters I write to the road commissions, they still refuse to start designing highways with second-chance exits.

I could've enjoyed a cigarette if I smoked back before everyone knew it was bad - say, like, 1923. Everybody smoked back then. There was no medical information against it; they had no idea - it was a paradise. It was a smoker's paradise: 'They're taking my lung out next week. I don't know why. Doctor thinks maybe I'm brushing my teeth too often, but I can't help it because, for some reason, my breath smells like I licked a monkey's ass.