I just bought a bag of potato-chip-flavored air. I also bought a bed, but sleep wasn’t included. Thank God a cup of coffee is full of wakefulness.
I’d pour the Milky Way in my morning coffee, just to wake up my inner universe. Your love is all the sugar I’d need.
I like my water on the rocks, and I like those rocks to be in a mountain stream. That’s how I like my coffee too, fresh from a glass of whiskey.
I always carry around a spade, because I never know when I’ll have to dig my own grave—slowly. Give me coffee or give me death. Or sleep.
His clothes were clean, but his mustache was dirty. He must have used it as a brush to scrub his pants. I’ll bet his coffee tastes like freedom.
I love coffee like I love making love. It’s like liquid sex, except you don’t want to spill it all over your crotch.
In a blind taste test, nine out of ten Helen Kellers preferred Blue Ribbon Coffee to Starbucks. The tenth Helen Keller, well, she claimed she didn’t hear the question.
I told the joke, but someone else got the high five. That’s like me drinking a cup of coffee and a guy in a coma waking up. Go back to bed, buddy.
We made love, we drank coffee, and then we went our separate ways. I went west, and she went to hell. Or at least I hope she did.
We drank coffee like two lovers, despite the fact that we were strangers separated by a window and about two hundred feet. Thank God for binoculars.
I drink coffee like a civilized man—alone in a cave, wearing a loincloth, and grunting in frustration because my club is too thick to fit in my cup to stir in the sugar.
I drink coffee like goats walk on tightropes. It’s fun to watch, but it sure would be easier if this monkey dressed like a cowboy would get off my back.
She’s the kind of woman where if you give her an inch, she’ll take the whole penis. She took all I had, and she didn’t even take me out to coffee.
I just got circumcised, and to help the homeless, I’m going to make a tent out of my foreskin. But right now I’m offering free coffee if you haven’t got a place to sleep.
Word of mouth is often louder than word of hand, although applause can be deafening. I clap like Helen Keller drank coffee—with two spoonfuls of silence.
Her clothes were half off—a sale, not a strip tease. Watching her shop was as hot as a fresh cup of coffee, and that’s why I had a wad of dollar bills.
Karate, I get a real kick out of it. I would get a kick out of coffee, but I’ve got better ways of stirring, like renting Michael Phelps’ 400 IM time.
The only woman I’d want to go on a blind date with is Helen Keller. Maybe we could meet for coffee and I could listen while she doesn’t all the talking.
I’m currently drinking a coffee cup full of yesterday and thinking about tomorrow. My past is so dark it makes me think my future could use some cream.
i don't know. i don't care. all i know is when you pay for something that's supposed to give you a cup of coffee, you deserve to get your fucking cup of coffee.
We walked along the beach like two coffee lovers. But we weren’t. He was a fish, and I was astonished—not that a fish was walking, but that he didn’t love coffee.
