Excuse me, flight attendant, but there is a tiny man's head in my cocktail. Help.

Either the toast feels violated and needs to clean off the icky or someone thinks you need some breakfast.

I don't know if I feel Pink Floyd doing a banana commercial but I do know I'm hungry.

Just make sure not to rub your eyes after dessert.

I'm not sure noodles could make me want to make out with someone else but I do know that I ALWAYS want to make out with noodles.

Oh sorry, I didn't mean for that comma to be there. I don't want a carrot's help, I want a carrot shaped like a hand, thanks. And a handful of ranch, please.

I really can't wrap my head around what a Cheeto marshmallow treat would taste like! Brave souls! Venture forth and bring me stories of conquest and glory!