My favorite salad dressing is vodka. And my favorite ice cream flavor is coffee, though I prefer it melted and hot enough to burn flesh.
A guitar is not a baseball bat, despite me being known as the Babe Ruth of music. And if some have called me the Beethoven of coffee, I haven’t heard it because I’m deaf to their praise.
Quiet night. Silence at full capacity. Noiselessness is spilling over like a coffee cup full of jock cock. In a contact sport I’ve got to protect my genitals.
My TV’s remote control didn’t have a source of energy, so I poured coffee in it. Now I can read any book I want.
I had a dream my house was on fire, and I tried to rescue all the cats—and none of the politicians. You can burn my house, but don’t you dare burn my coffee.
I’d row a gondola like a column is not a row. My coffee may be cold, but my love is warm. When are you going to wake up and drink it?
You can’t put water back in a cloud after a rain like you can with a sponge. Coffee flows out of my penis, and though it’s less caffeinated, it’s just as drinkable.
Coffee is the only brown liquid I’d drink out of a toilet. Well, almost the only one, as I’d drink number two for the number one in my life.
I invented scissors with wheels, so I could cut to the chase. Next time we make love it will be the first time, and I’ll bring a sock soaked in coffee.
Her name was Ashley, but I called her Ash, because she looked like the burnt remains of a cigarette. But she smelled like coffee, and I thirsted for her affection.
I’ve got two jobs to do. One of those jobs is to not cry. It’s not a job, but it is in its isn’tness. I could go for either a cup of coffee, or an empty cup full of sleep.
I am Ebenezer Snooze, and I am frugal with my sleep. I buy warm coffee cold, so I can get a discount.
I’d kill every politician with a spoon, if I thought they had coffee for brains. But they’re simply not that intelligent, and I wish the people would wake up to that fact.
I would be out of town, but every time I move, my home keeps relocating to where I’m at. My coffee is caffeinated, and my friends are either decaffeinated or nonexistent.
I have a coffee table, but I don’t like it. I think it could use some more cream and sugar. Plus, it’s entirely too liquid to be a functional piece of furniture.
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.
