One man's trash is another man's place to hide out for a while until the police helicopter is done hovering over the block.

Sometimes I wish my dad could look down from Heaven and watch over me proudly. But he can't, because he's still alive.

I think it's pretty offensive to call it a "lazy" eye. It wouldn't kill anybody to take a few minutes and actually figure out where it's looking... This is the '90s. It's time to be a little more courteous.

I've learned that pursuing your dreams isn't always easy. But I will continue to work as hard as I can to become the first Bratton to win the World Mayonnaise Eating Championship.

I had long hair once and somebody called me "ma'am." Can't say I minded it.

It would be really far out if you could change your name depending on your mood.  Today I feel like "Dubstep O'Brien."

My best friend Sancho from the Exxon Station is so hilarious. I walk in after work and tell him all about my day and my cat's heartworm, and he's like, "I don't know you, sir. Please leave." Gets me every time!

Call me old fashioned, but this whole "going to the dentist" racket seems a little overkill. My sharpened cattle bone gets the job done just fine.

Some days I hear a lot of voices in my head. But the one who's a shrink says it's pretty normal, so I haven't done anything about it yet.

I've been writing my Congresswoman for years, but I know she's not getting the letters, cause who in their right mind would ignore several romantic booze cruise date offers from yours truly?  

I hate being recognized in public when I'm not wearing my metallic purple suit and my scorpion necklace.

I never stray from my homemade trail mix recipe, but just once I'd like to try making it with throat lozenges and Skittles...

Note to self: learn to be good at something you love, get confident, THEN meet a woman.