Pepperidge Farm bread. That's fancy bread. You can tell it's fancy because it's wrapped twice. You open it, and it still isn't open. That's why I don't buy it. I don't need another step between me and toast.

My apartment is infested with koala bears. It's the cutest infestation ever. Way better than cockroaches. When I turn on the light a bunch of koala bears scatter. But I don't want 'em to, you know, I'm like "Hey, hold on, fellas. Let me hold one of you. And feed you a leaf."

I'm an ice sculptor. Last night I made a cube.

People associate long hair with drug use. I wish people associated long hair with something other than drug use, like an extreme longing for cake. And then strangers would see a long haired guy and say, "That guy eats cake!" "He is on bundt cake!" Mothers saying to their daughters, "Don't bring the cake eater over here anymore. He smells like flour. Did you see how excited he got when he found out your birthday was fast approaching?"

I cannot tell you what hotel I'm staying at, but there are two trees involved.

I don't have a microwave oven, but I do have a clock that occasionally cooks stuff.

Every McDonald's commercial ends the same way: Prices and participation may vary. I wanna open a McDonald's and not participate in anything. I wanna be a stubborn McDonald's owner. "Cheeseburgers?" "Nope! We got spaghetti, and blankets."