The French aren’t birthed; they’re hatched out of eggs. That’s why they make the best omelets.

My life is a code within a code, and I’ll crack both like two eggs and eat my existence like an omelet.

Leadership is being the first egg in the omelet.

The internet is a knowledge omelet. Sometimes I just want the purity of scrambled eggs that only a book can provide.

Here’s a little mote of wisdom: Not everyone who claims to be an expert, is indeed an expert. Please note: I have never claimed to be an expert on anything except perhaps making the perfect...

Do I look like someone you know? Well you don’t know me, so why don’t you go bother my clone? And if you do see my clone, tell him I should have made an omelet...

I make love like you might make an omelet. At least, I’m hoping you might make an omelet, because I skipped breakfast like a child skips home from the class he just skipped.

I have aspirations of becoming the first man to put on a chicken suit, cross the road, and then explain my motives for doing so. I guess you could say that right now I am...

I gathered all my eggs in one basket, because I believe in collectivism, and I wanted a tyrannical omelet.

I know my kids are safe, because they’re still in my testicles. Can I fix you an omelet? I make them by hand?