I’m always 15 minutes early for everything. In fact, I was born 15 minutes early. That’s why my love is always a bit premature. But don’t worry; just give our relationship a minute—plus fourteen more.
A magician who could make the audience’s problems disappear—now that’s someone I’d pay to throw tomatoes at. If I didn’t have any problems, I’d still have a problem, because I’d have nothing to blame my failures on.
I’m only 33% patriotic, because I don’t bleed red, white, and blue. I only bleed red. But I pee white and my balls are blue, so doesn’t that count for something?
A brick could be used to represent my hero. My hero obviously doesn’t look like a brick, but since he is my hero I decided to represent him as more handsome and interesting than he really is. Who’s my hero? Any member of Congress.
I’m a natural salesman. I sold my soul to the devil. I’m so shrewd that I got pennies on the dollar for it. Ha! Wait, a buyer who gets pennies on the dollar is the clever one in the deal. Damn it! Lucifer tricked me!
To increase my business, I gave myself the illusion of popularity. I did that by halving the size of my parking lot—so it looks twice as full. It’s this sort of tactical maneuvering, and preference for the abstract over the concrete, that makes m...
Dogs are exceptionally intelligent creatures. My dog, for example, taught me that not only am I a cat person, but that it isn’t really a dog at all, but that it is in fact a cat.
I am not challenging you to be you, I am challenging you to be you. In the first case, I’d be challenging you for your role; while in the second instance, I’d be issuing you a challenge for you to step up and be the best possible you.
I remember my first cell phone number still. I may call it and ask to speak to myself from eight years ago. If they say I have the wrong number I’ll tell them, No, right number, wrong time.
My girlfriend has two aliases. Clones aside, it’s the only time I’ve ever felt like I was cheating on one person with the same person.
I’ll tug at your breasts like a thirsty child. Try not to burn your nipples in my hot coffee. While you’re at it, I also like sugar in my coffee.
I wouldn’t want to work in a nursery, because I can’t deal with children. Or bees. Can I offer you some tea, or some biscuits and a diaper?
There are two apples, one is green and the other is red. Which apple would the wise man choose? The answer is: I’ll take the one you didn’t choose. You see, you are the fool here, because I poisoned the first apple!
It’s been said that men think only about sex and food. And some men, like my uncle Lester, think about sex with food. Needless to say the church has ordered him to cease bringing his own food to the potlucks.
We fought, we drank coffee, and then we made up. Then I made up the part about us having made out, because I was trying to impress my ex girlfriend and grandma (two people, not one).
Working in a hotel is the anti-coffee shop, because instead of it being a place that’ll wake you up, it’s a place to sleep. And it’s a place to have sex, which is something Starbucks frowns upon (though I’ve never seen anyone frown during sex...
When I feel sad, I try to think of someone else in the world who is suffering worse than me. Like someone in Seattle, who is hurting so bad financially that instead of a vente coffee at Starbucks every morning, they have to downsize to grande.
I would offer to meet up for some coffee, but I don’t drink coffee. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to burden you with my personal problems. It’s just that I haven’t been the same since the Folgers fiasco of ‘04.
Most men want sex, without the kids or commitment. I want sex, but I don’t want to have to pay any money. But is that possible? I should invent a vending machine that dispenses sex. I guess it’ll also distribute political favors.
I tell people my name is “The Weather,” and that I understand how they don’t have anything else to talk about besides me. Of course they do have something else to talk about. They could always talk about the weather. But that’s boring and a l...
In the immortal words of myself, "If our destiny stems from our name, then I weep for the flower named Wilt." Likewise, if cyborgs one day come to be viewed as so human-like that they are accepted as equals, then I cry for the cyborg named Mel T. Dow...
