I think pickles are cucumbers that sold out. They sold their soul to the devil, and the devil is dill.

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'd like to get four people who do cart wheels very good, and make a cart.

That's always disappointed me, to see a guy in the crowd who doesn't look like he's having fun but in general if you just listen to the crowd it sounds like they're having fun. So I don't want to focus on the one guy who's not having fun. And by closing my eyes and just listening, I can't hear that he's not laughing but I can see that he's not laughing.

So, I sit at the hotel at night and I think of something that's funny. Or, If the pen is too far away, I have to convince myself that what I thought of wasn't funny.

I like Kit-Kat, unless I'm with four or more people.

A dog came to my door, so I gave him a bone, the dog took the bone into the back yard and buried it. I'm going to go plant a tree there, with bones on it, then the dog will come back and say, "Shoot! It worked! I must distribute these bones equally for I have a green paw!"