“Last week I was very ill. I'm finally starting to feel like myself again. Which is great, because before I felt like Napoleon. And let me tell you, my clothes were much too large.”

“If I were facing a firing squad, I’d ask them to hold on just one second, because I have a wedgie and it is very uncomfortable. Let me adjust myself, and then you can shoot me.”

“It’s impossible for me to applaud your successes when my hands are too busy patting myself on the back. But if I clap for you, and you pat my back, we can both feel like winners.”

“This is the true story of my life, as told by a complete liar (me). While that sounds like an honest statement, it’s also a lie. I just can’t help myself. Unless I’m helping myself to seconds at dinner. You see, I can’t possibly be a complete liar, because I’m a rather incomplete person. I look complete on the outside—two arms, legs, ears, eyes, etc—but on the inside I feel half empty at times. If I were a glass of water, I’d make myself thirstier for more than I could supply. I thirst for love like a straw in the Sahara. I hunger for your body like a cannibal in the mountains. Wait, that last bit wasn’t true. I should have said cannibal on a deserted island.”

“I floated like driftwood in the ocean. I wasn’t worried about sharks, because my bathtub is much too shallow.”

“I haven’t been feeling like myself lately. No, I’ve been feeling like my clone.”

“I’ve felt alone, cold, and clothed in shame for too long. Let the sunlight be my blanket, wardrobe, and toilet paper.”