I find my movie props in my neighbors houses.

I think I suffer from some mild depression.

I mean, personally, I would have had no problem surviving. Come on, how hard is it to swim?

You know, I think there should be a Zach Braff Day. We could have it on December 25th and then people can decide whether they want to celebrate me or Jesus. If you ask me, the choice is pretty obvious.

Every time I see a child walking down the street I like to trip them. While they look for their missing teeth, I personally remind them that no matter how hard they try I will always be better than them.

I like to drop in on people who picked on me in high school or whatever, just out of the blue, and chat with them to see how they think of me now that I'm a big star. Usually they're a lot nicer. After about half an hour, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, and leave a few DVDs or pictures there. Then when I come out, I say good-bye and leave. Then I call the cops.

I'm not saying eating babies should be legal, but when they're so delicious, what's the harm in it? I don't know what tastes better, their innocence or their gooey rib butter.