I travel with a boom box. When I get on a plane, I stuff the power cord for the boom box into the battery compartment. From an outsider's point of view, it looks like I've got it all wrong.

Incubated. And then raised. And then beheaded. And then plucked. And then cut up. And then put on a grill. And then put on a bun. Damn, it's gonna take a while. I don't have time. Scrambled!

I put fruit on top of my waffles, because I want something to brush off.

I have a Sharpie. I love Sharpies. You know what they say on them? Not for letter writing. That sucks. Now I have to communicate with my dad using numbers.

I heard a guy tell me he liked cherries. I waited to hear if he was going to say "tomatoes", then I realized he like cherries just. That joke is ridiculous.

I think a rotisserie is like a really morbid ferris wheel for chickens. It’s a strange piece of machinery . . . We will take the chicken, kill it, impale it, and then rotate it. And I’ll be damned if I’m not hungry! Because spinning chicken carcasses make my mouth water! I like dizzy chicken. With a side of potatoes of some sort.

I went to the Home Depot, which was unnecessary. I need to go to the Apartment Depot. Which is just a big warehouse with a whole lot of people standing around saying "We don't have to fix anything."