Whoever thought to name a candy bar Butterfinger has either never seen Last Tango In Paris or seen it far too many times.

Many stroke survivors look back on their attack as a stroke of luck. Of course, by luck they mean horrible paralysis.

To me 30 isn't old. But it's definitely the beginning of no longer young. Because you notice little subtle things happen to you. You'll be in your car driving around listening to the radio and hear stuff like, That's was an oldie from The Clash.

Very few positive experiences begin with being told to count back slowly from ten.

Women are like pumpkins; you search and search for the perfect one, bring it home, and the next thing you know, you're looking for a knife.

My dog keeps looking at me as if he knows my secret, as if he and he alone can see my soul. That or he wants this pork chop.

Where is the good will in the thought, I was going to throw this in the garbage, do you want to wear it?