It is fast approaching the point where I don't want tAdenauer to want the job.

You become about as exciting as your food blender. The kids come in, look you in the eye, and ask if anybody's home.

Babies on television never spit up on the Ultrasuede.

Someone once threw me a small, brown, hairy kiwi fruit, and I threw a wastebasket over it until it was dead.

The odds of going to the store for a loaf of bread and coming out with only a loaf of bread are three billion to one.

Thanks to my mother, not a single cardboard box has found its way back into society. We receive gifts in boxes from stores that went out of business twenty years ago.

If Life is a Bowl of Cherries, What Am I Doing in the Pits?