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Thinks everyone who posts on WP is a figment of her imagination.

Can make Dubstep music with just a paper clip and a piece of A4 paper.

Can play country music with just a rubber band and a cardboard box.

Plays the banjo whilst wearing boxing gloves.

Plays the drums using chicken legs.

Wears chicken legs earrings.

Exhibited a model of Winchester Cathedral that she made using chicken bones and plumbers' putty.

Tried to surf on her keyboard, type on her surfboard, then played a game of cards with pieces of cardboard.

Tried to keep an oddly-shaped cloud for a pet ("it's better than a goldfish"). This worked surprisingly well; lives in a jellyfish-shaped opal villa floating in part of the sky which could afford, thanks to a donation from Artemis, lawyers capable of challenging God over his 'gravity' regulations, successfully, in the landmark case of Mezzanotte's Jellyfish Estate vs. God. The lawyers then sued themselves for blasphemy for more than they could afford, and are now in debt to themselves. In fact, the 'auto-suing bubble' caused a major economic collapse there, which Cloud Cuckoo Land, under the rule of the Dadaist Party, bailed out by shipping them one million, ninety-seven thousand and forty two rubber chickens and a flying oxymoron through a wormhole, based on an economic theory developed by the influential Cloudcuckoolander economist who called herself, for unfathomable reasons, Biplane Tetrarch Night Woodchip Seven-Point-Two Slipstreamz MMCCXXIV of Aerosol Three (or 'Woody' to her friends).

Got in a heated dispute with Hieronymus Bosch about frogs, or perhaps it was about the quality of the pumpernickel bagels he'd served for breakfast, or the way he pronounced the word "elleboog." What started the bickering is unclear. But one moment they were rosy-cheeked and merry, and the next moment Hieronymus slapped him in the face with one of his smelly old socks. Without saying a single word, he stood up, exited Bosch's domicile, mounted his trusty steed, Bartholemew, and rode into the great gusts of wind blowing in from the stormy North Sea. During the ride, he began to feel a peculiar pressure burgeoning under his rump and noticed that his legs were spreading. The horse was growing larger. Its neon-orange mane whipped in the wind like the flames of a wildfire. He gripped the mane tightly, held on for dear life. The horse galloped faster and faster. Its teeth were piano keys. Its eyes were moons. It had eight legs. They were made of wood. It was a great round table. King Arthur slammed his fist down on the table and demanded to know where Sir Lancelot was.

Threw an absolute hissy fit when his toupee was returned from the cleaners...they forgot to starch it.

Once took four hours to remove himself from the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, after is personal-gravity device made personally for him by his Hermian overlords froze and malfunctioned. Michelangelo reportedly rose from his grave, was unimpressed, and returned to it.

Visited the Sistine Chapel, considered the female figures borderline obese, so, in the interest of healthy examples for Italian Youth, had the place painted mauve.

With moss-green trim.

Saved the Sistine chapel by recruiting an enormous herd of St. Bernards crossbred with flying geckos who had an all consuming addiction to paint licking.

Recently bought William Shatner's old cooking apron on Ebay.

Is bidding on William Shatner's copy of 'How to Win Friends and Influence People' on eBay.