“When someone is talking about their job, and they turn to me and ask me what I do, I stare off into space, let my eyes glaze over, and wistfully say, “I often wonder what I’m doing.”

“Turn the fan off when I’m talking. It not only makes my words colder, but it distorts and dilutes what I’m saying.”

“I saw something scary. It was a boy, asking me what I’m doing naked in his father’s fridge. Dinner party’s over.”

“People used to tell me that when I smile I really warm up the room. Well, the moment someone told me about global warming I frowned, and in that exact moment it started to snow. So, if you see me walking around with a furrow on my brow, you’ll know what I’m doing: I’m helping to save Mother Earth.”

“There’s truth in only having a bicycle seat. I used to skip class and just hold it out in the hallway. When teachers would ask me what I was doing, I’d hold it up and say, “Sorry I’m late.”

“I prefer to let my voice do all the talking for me.”

“He’s like my best friend. And I say that only because I have no real friends, and Cap’n is a great listener (he never interrupts when I’m talking—and I’m always the one doing all the talking). The day he does respond to me will probably be the best day of my life, because it means my walls are finally padded.”