I have a mansion of an imagination, and I cordially invite you to come sleep in my shed.

“I walk like a shriveled hippopotamus, I jog like a giraffe with charcoal knees,…”

“-My son was 32 when he died.
-Degrees? So he froze to death, huh?”

“If my clone writes my biography, is it really an autobiography?”

“I found Waldo. He was in a strip club. He was hard to spot, because he’d alread…”