All I knew about Ireland before I went there was what I learned from watching soap commercials all my life. I was totally misinformed. I thought it was an Irish tradition where you don't even take a shower with your soap - you take your soap for a walk, you compliment the soap for a little while and then, suddenly, you just start hacking it up with a hunting knife.
Can you imagine if you had a pair of shoes that you could only walk in? That could be kind of limiting under certain circumstances. 'Everybody get outta here! There's a swarm of bees coming!' What? Oh great, I got my walking shoes on today. I guess I better stroll the hell out of here at a moderate pace.
I couldn't get away with Halloween pranks 'cause my parents owned the health food store. So, it was so easy to bust me. I was the only kid on the block egging houses with those big 'ole brown eggs. Like, you didn't have to be a detective to figure it out. 'Oh, I wonder who Tofuttied my mailbox. Is it the same evil genius who filled my bird bath with Rice Dream?
I was troubled by the presence of a shoe museum because it forced me to ask a very burning question: would my body be able to physically survive the amount of dope I would need to smoke in order to visit a shoeseum?
It's gotten to the point where I think my friends would rather hang out with their own kids than hang out with me. And I'm like, "Alright, but where's the loyalty, man. I've known you for twenty-five years. How long have you known your baby, like, a month?"