He liked the idea of coffee quite a lot—a warm drink that gave you energy and had been for centuries associated with sophisticates and intellectuals. But coffee itself tasted to him like caffeinated stomach bile.
I’m 32 years old and I’m tired. It’s because I haven’t drank enough coffee. If I had, I’d probably only be 29.
I drink coffee like an alcoholic drinks gasoline. You wouldn’t believe how many gallons my little car can hold.
I think coffee is the best drink known to man. I also think that wine is the best drink known to woman.
Good days are ahead of me. But so is the worst day of my life—my last day. I need a cup of coffee large enough to take a bath in.
The leaves are orange, her hair is orange, and my mood is blue. That reminds me, I really do need to make some more coffee.
Ask the police, and they’ll tell you I have a mug shot. They watched me take the picture before drinking the coffee out of the mug.
I soak my white socks in coffee, so I can wear them with brown pants and keep my feet from falling asleep.
I drink coffee with a spoon, and I eat soup with a straw. The clang of metal on an empty mug wakes me up to the moment and reminds me to love.
I use my windshield wipers when it’s not raining. I’m an umbrellaless pedestrian, and I can’t tell the difference between Starbucks’ coffee and a mud puddle in a cup.
I’m 50% in love. To put that into a visual, I am a 3’ tall midget aspiring to be a 6’ tall man, with the coffee capacity of a narcoleptic camel.
She drowned in a coffee cup the size of a swimming pool. It really helped wake me up to my own mortality.
I make love like uh huh. Huh? Uh huh. I also make coffee, though you have to pay for that.
I wear glasses. They improve my hearing, Helen Keller style. And I sip coffee like a mute orator on a meteor. Drink up the deafness.
I’m grateful for what you’ve done—and I’m ungrateful for what you haven’t done. A cup half full of coffee is also half full of sleep.
I want to roast Mr. Bean, because that’d be the funniest coffee ever. I think I’d make a great roastmaster.
If I were an outlaw, I’d want to be “Most Wanted.” It’s good to be desired. I’d be honored to be shot at for a large reward, or a small cup of coffee.
I am the coffee Randolph in your zebra escapade. Drink of me as you would any other time you swallow caffeinated saliva.
The swimming pool was drained of water. That’s why I went fishing in it. Go ahead, ask me what I did in your empty coffee cup.
I collect kitchens, one empty coffee cup at a time. I wish they made dishwashers that cleaned with dreams, not laundry detergent.
Air conditioning is indoor winter. Coffee is liquid wakefulness. And my love is like For Sale, only it’s not on sale. I’m afraid there is no discount.
