Don’t show me how I messed up, because I don’t need to be shown. Clearly if I’ve messed up once, I can do it again without any coaching from you.
For most Americans, money and calories are always on their minds, although they burn too much of one, and not enough of the other.
Do onto others what others won’t do for themselves. If they won’t save their money, I’ll save their money for them.
My wallet isn’t empty—it’s full of hope. Thanks, Obama!
Tickets are 40 bucks at the window, and 190 bucks if you actually go through the window to get them.
If I had a dollar for every time someone told me I reminded them of Orafoura’s shadow, I’d have a penny more than ninety nine cents. And even then that’s because I muttered it to myself this morning in the shower.
I want to get even. I want to get even more money.
I want to be a standup economist, because isn’t money funny? Actually, without gold backing our currency, it’s all funny money.
Love is the thing that holds life together. Sort of like rind to a melon, cloth to a stuffed animal, or money to the time spent with a stripper.
I’m strapped for cash, and I’m also strapped to a chair in someone’s basement.
Money’s a tool, like a wrench, and until I make more I need to tighten my belt.
Time flows like a canoe floats, and my love would fit in your purse if you’d just empty your money into my wallet.
I would rather save a few seconds than a few cents. I hope you don’t mind, but I’m saving them in your sofa cushions.
Employment: I’ll trade my time and labor for your money. So time is not money, because money is time plus labor. I spend my time saving money, I spend my money saving time, and I labor hard to not labor hard.
When you are the designated buyer, ask for more money than the item costs, so when you spend less people will be happy about you spending their money. Be careful with money—and with love. Don’t overspend with either.
Make your money make money: Buy a printing press and some blank currency paper.
Money, like a person whose first name is Money, shouldn’t be what you spend your time fantasizing about. And the same goes for goats too, you pervert.
There’s bacon in my bed. Extra crispy, like the fresh dollar bills stuffed in the mattress. I make love like I make sure I’m prepared for the next financial crisis.
What I want more than a car that goes from Point A to Point B, is a car that stops. I make it a point to break for love. My horn is broke—and so am I, but I get paid Friday.
It’s not hush money. It’s simply dollars backed not by faith, but by shhh.
I launder dirty money. You should see my washing machine. (It’s filthy!)
