I am a mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in a pita. Why the pita? That counts as another mystery.

I am a man. And I am former baby and a future skeleton, and I am a distant future pile of dust.

When a couch potato is sliced up and then deep fried that is couch french fries.

There's an old Russian saying that goes some way or another. I don't know it. I don't speak Russian. But sometimes I think about it and wonder if it's relevant to what I'm going through at the time. Probably not. I mean what do Russian know about hunger, anyway?

Cotton balls is an example of something I would buy, but not want to have as a nickname. Cinnamon buns, on the other hand, is something I would buy and want to have as a nickname. 'Are you Cinnamon Buns?' 'You bet your sweet ass I am.'

One thing I learned is that it's never OK to walk through a cemetery dressed as a mummy - even if that was a shortcut on the way to the costume party.

When I am holding a water balloon, so many things look so unnecessarily dry.