I see the gatekeepers at Criterion still won’t let me in the closet.

As an obnoxious windbag, I'm often asked if I will let someone finish their sentence.

Standing up swaying on the bus with music in my ears and *whispers* Nobody Knows I'm Dancing

I'm not telling anyone what to do, but please be nice to me, and also bring me a plate of food.

I have questions. None of them are helpful.

A threesome? Too much going on at once. I can’t even back out of the driveway while the radio’s on.

My kids are learning so much from running a lemonade stand, like how ice cream is only for closers.

My favorite Star Trek episode? It's called “How Would I Know, I'm Not A Dork.” That or “The Corbomite Maneuver.”

Stop calling me an amateur. I've been doing this for decades. I'm incompetent.

A cool thing to say before someone shoots you would be "those bullets better be silver, playboy"

the perfect time to rob someone is when their baby starts crying in public

I go to my local Taco Bell so often they’ve given me a nickname (“Sad Man”).

Drugs. Alcohol. Cult membership. We cope with the truth about Santa Claus in different ways.

The kidnappers' instructions were so complicated I finally just gave up.

"The color of your nipples is also your most natural shade of lipstick." *whips out a titty in Sephora*

Like most of my idols, I am self-taught on the tambourine.

It's dangerous to go alone. Take this (the key to the locked up deodorants at CVS)

Depressed rooster merely noting sunrise in his journal.

If the good lord willing and the creek don't rise I won't be able to make it to your birthday thing.

Are you there, God? It's me, the guy who makes creepy Judy Blume references

Little Women 2: Even Littler

if i owned Goodyear, my slogan would be: Don’t Tread on Me or A Good Place to ReTire or Give Us a Try, No Pressure or Air to The Throne or We Won’t Leave You Flat or

I blame myself for not reading the “shoplifters will be prosecuted” sign.

I add a secret, fourth bean to my three bean casserole

Ronald McDonald is a clown but he doesn’t really do clown shit he’s more a guy who likes that look

Sometimes I feel like a song was written just for me. Like, Ludacris saw me at the grocery store and could feel the thoughts of my soul… “Move bitch, get out the way. Get out the way, bitch…”

I admit I first got into birdwatching in the hopes of meeting chicks.

In the world of “The Jetsons,” many of us are already dead.

Practical jokes are the best for expressing veiled hostility.

I saw David Bowie on SNL in 1979 singing The Man Who Sold the World in a shiny black plastic skirt w velvet and sequin trim. This blew my 11 y/o mind. I was like "Oh shit, you can just do whatever you want!". Later I learned that this is only true for the beautiful, the talented and the wealthy.