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My older relatives used to tease me at weddings, saying things like, “You’ll be next!” They stopped once I started doing the same to them at funerals.

I’ll tell you what I love doing more than anything: trying to pack myself in a small suitcase. I can hardly contain myself.

Google Earth is amazing. They’ve photographed every road in the world and put them on the computer. You just type it in and you go there. You sit in front of the computer and you think, ‘I can go anywhere in the world. Where shall I go?’ And we all come to the same conclusion: ‘My house.’

I tried to swat a fly with a rolled-up newspaper, missed and hit the coffee mug, which flew into the fish bowl, which tipped over onto the keyboard, which short-circuited and somehow turned on the vacuum cleaner. While I stood there dripping wet, surrounded by chaos, the fly landed on my nose.

I was walking past a farm, and a sign read: “Duck, eggs!” I thought, “That’s an unnecessary comma.” Then it hit me.

Two cows in a field, one asks the other “Don’t you worry about this mad cow disease?” The other says “Why would that bother me? I’m a sheep.”

I bought a book on time management but unfortunately I never got around to reading it.

Q: What’s blue and smells like red paint? A: Blue paint.

I have the body of a 25-year-old. It’s in the trunk of my car and it’s starting to smell.

I ran for the bus, tripped, dropped my coffee, caught the cup mid-air—then missed the bus anyway while everyone applauded.