I was making pancakes the other day and a fly flew into the kitchen. And that's when I realized that a spatula is a lot like a fly-swatter. And a crushed fly is a lot like a blueberry. And a roommate is a lot like a fly eater.

Whenever I investigate a smell, I find that the answer is always bad. It's never: 'What is that? *sniff* muffins!'

My friend has hand soap that smells like coconut. It's nice. Unless your hands are dirty from coconuts.

When I am at rodeo I find it difficult not to root for the animals.

I think cats would have an even worse attitude if they found out how stupid their names were.

Timing is everything. That's a cliche. Now. If I'd said that a long time ago, I'd have been original.

Love is, and I hope it never isn't.