Wherever it is I go in my dreams, the rest of me, that dogged corporeal self, attempts to follow.
Wait— you want me to make how much pho?!?
Three words: Fiberglass pink gorilla.
What’s the secret of writing, you say? Well here it is: Write anyway.
Oh derber ber, der ber, der ber are ber, ber, ber. . .
To know how an artist functions in the world, look at how he takes criticism. Like, a LOT of criticism.
Soup shouldn’t burn through the floor, right?
Raise your hand if you forget your wedding anniversary someti— I mean, every year.
The Keebler Elves are here. They say you owe them money.
The Husband wants to know which part of the body is the babymaker.
You’re gonna pull a muscle!