“Can you tell by where my eyes are looking what I’m thinking? Hint: I’m staring directly at your vagina.”

“If I’m happy, my eyes are chestnut; if I’m surprised, my eyes are hazelnut; if I’m afraid, my eyes look like they just shit themselves; and if I’m crying, my eyes get lighter and greener, like an anorexic leprechaun.”

“My eyes change color depending on my mood and what I’m wearing. If I’m wearing an acorn brown shirt, my eyes look like squirrel fur. And if I’m wearing no shirt at all, my eyes look more nude and flesh-colored. I guess my ex girlfriend, Zelda, said it best when her friend asked her what I look like and she said: “He looks like you’d imagine him to look like, if you had no imagination.”

“Does my face not look hungry? My mouth is the path and mouthpiece to my stomach, so I’d believe what I’m telling you if I were inside your ears.”

“I’m in disguise. I’m disguised as myself, and I’m a master of disguise, so that’s why you couldn’t tell I was in disguise. Not even my clone could tell.”

“-Good thing you don’t own a mirror, Mr. Mirrorless, or you’d see how ugly you are.
-What makes you think I don’t own a mirror? Every face that ever looks at me tells me that I’m ugly. But every time I make them laugh, I get to show them what beauty really is.
-I see what you mean. Here, take my rearview mirror. I don’t need to carry it around like a vagina on a rope anymore.
-Mr. Thrustsalone, you don’t need to drag a vagina on a rope like some kind of pet on a leash to make you happy. There’s a reason why God invented right hands and hookers.
-Why, so politicians could have more productive ways to spend their time and our money than engaging in politics?
-Mr. Thrustsalone, you are wise beyond your years.
-I’m 88 years old.
-Yet you don’t look a day older than 87.”

“If you expect others to think for you, then you expect others to live your life for you. And I’m sorry, but the only person I’ll let live my life for me is my clone. He thinks like me, so I’m OK with him thinking for me.”