I get asked to work in haunted houses a lot.

My sister gets asked all the time to do professional modeling.

We’re both tall, but I get seen as Frankenstein’s monster and my sister gets seen as Naomi Campbell.

Cartoon characters—after they have completely disappeared when falling into an abyss. There is no other surefire way to know a cartoon character is dead, so if you are ever wanting to kill one, ensure an abyss is nearby. 

We’re driving on whatever the hell the name of the main road is that goes through Paris and I have to piss. There’s six of us in a car—me, my girlfriend, her friend Katty, Katty’s husband’s mother who has a name that I forget as soon as she says it, a dog named Ramses (I’m serious), and Katty’s husband’s father who will not let me piss. I think it’s a gas issue. He’s worried that if we exit, we might end up driving around for a bit looking for a place for me to relieve myself, so he’s telling me to hold it in. Except he’s doing this in French and no one speaks English in the entire car other than me and my girlfriend.