Oh, anything Italian.
I could make a meal out of those little cheese cubes you see at parties.
Yes. There are numbers, real and imaginary, chasing a microscopic me through atomic particles.
Yes. I’m flying a Lear jet, and texting ways to improve it for safe, cheap space flight.
I never dream. What other people dream, I create.
It’s a nightmare. My brother, this fuzzy-haired guy and I are married to shrews who hate us.
The boxiest Volvo they have.
One of those tiny cars with all the clowns inside.
Step back, take it all in and reduce it to its simplest form.
Imagine an entirely different problem, solve that and then come back to the first one.
Envision it as a series of shapes that can be juxtaposed in patterns, and the problem solves itself.
Slap the top of your head repeatedly and yelp loudly.
I think you will find that the term was invented to describe me.
Tell me, do you work in a cubicle? I’m just saying.
Mel Gibson … the wild-looking Mel from his mug shot.
Is that Heston guy still around?
Michael Chiklis/Howie Mandell.
I bide my time. Soon they will all know my name.
Not get the promotion? I can’t say. That’s hard to imagine, and I have a really great imagination.
What is work? All my life is creating! (Okay, I would probably pout a little.)
Hit the floor, spin like a top and whoop like a crazy person.
I review the bill with him, number by number, service by service, until he understands.
I design a better automobile on the spot and intimidate him into a discount - and free wiper blades, to boot!
I simply draw a picture of him and his family, and well – people usually take that as a threat of some kind.
I remind him that he can’t fool me. I have experience as a mechanic, a plumber, a house painter, a wrestler, a jockey, a soldier, a detective and about 20 other careers.
A few that promote world peace.
Several guilds, which are not easy to find these days, believe me.
No organization can hold my talents. I am an organization of one.
I was in The Woman Haters Club, but I got tossed out when I fell in love.