My penis smells like pasta. Also, I personally tested it out, and your spaghetti's not too hot now, if you want to eat it.
Reclined legs don't get fed, they get limp like boiled spaghetti. Walk it out!
I think that my interpretation of Italian was a lot more southern than what my husband cooks. You know, I grew up in Queens and in Brooklyn, and we - really, it's more southern. It's Naples and Sicily. It's heavier. It's over-spiced. And like most Am...
In my new IFC comedy game show, 'Bunk,' we actually use our intern Patrick as a human timer - giving contestants the time it takes for him to wade through a bag of broken glass for a razor blade, to get gum out of his hair, to pick up every strand fr...
Conspirator: Do you still feel suicidal? Alex: Well, put it this way, I feel very low in myself. I can't see much in the future, and I feel that any second something terrible is going to happen to me. [slumps into spaghetti]
Broke my femur on a cruise with my wife in Italy. I'd walked back to my cabin after dinner with half a plate of spaghetti when I leaned in to open the door. Turns out it was already open, so I fell flat on my face like something from the Keystone Kop...
The ice cube melted slowly like a candle, and I thought about my love for her and how it was like an ice cube candle and that I’ve always wanted to drink fire and make love with the ferociousness of a cooked spaghetti noodle.
I love food: biscuits and gravy, cheese grits, spaghetti and meatballs, chicken-fried steak with white gravy... but my favorite dish is my wife's beanie weenie cornbread casserole. It's so good. It sounds stupid, but if you eat it, it's heaven. Of co...
He’d spent the night in the boat. Next to the spaghetti queen. William glanced at the hobo girl. She sat across from him, huddled in a clump. Her stench had gotten worse overnight, probably from the dampness. Another night like the last one, and he...
When I sing, it sounds like I’m gargling spaghetti. Is it any wonder that women lust after me and mail me their panties? (Mail to: Jarod Kintz/12358 Fibonacci Way/Jacksonville, Fl 32258)
If my last name were Drinkfood, I’d pour you a hot cup of spaghetti. And if my last name were Eatdrink, I’d be more romantic and pour you some wine, and let you sip it out of the spoon.
We all do it (or I used to-yes, once in a while, Franklin, what did you think?), we all know we all do it, but it isn't customary to say, "Honey, could you keep an eye on the spaghetti sauce, because I'm going to go masturbate.
Libby wasn't a big talker - Michelle and Debby seemed to hog all her words. She made pronouncements: I like ponies. I hate spaghetti. I hate you. Like her mother, she had no poker face. No poker mood. It was all right there. When she wasn't angry or ...
Remember that old Disney movie, the cartoon with the dogs, Lady and the Tramp?" she said with a jerky laugh. "it's Jade's favorite of course. We've watched it a million times. This reminds me of that scene where they're eating spaghetti." He raised h...
I have found it an amusing strategy, when asked whether I am an atheist, to point out that the questioner is also an atheist when considering Zeus, Apollo, Amon Ra, Mithras, Baal, Thor, Wotan, the Golden Calf and the Flying Spaghetti Monster. I just ...
A theist can't empirically prove that God exists but he believes in God because no one can allegedly disprove God's existence. By his logic, you must believe in anything you can't disprove. That means all things are real until disproved--including th...
It turns out that Molly wasn't her mother's daughter in that respect. Charity was like the MacGuyver of the kitchen. She could whip up a five-course meal for twelve from an egg, two spaghetti noodles, some household chemicals, and a stick of chewing ...
Most men have boxes in their waffle that have no words. There are thoughts, but they don’t always translate into words. Not all of the wordless boxes have thoughts, however. There are actually boxes in the average man’s waffle that contain neithe...
There are red splatters all over my shirt. Is that spaghetti sauce—or a murder stain? Somebody go look for my mother-in-law, and if you find her, let me know so I can move the body to a better hiding spot.
Dinner was served on mismatched plates with paper napkins and silverware that looked like it had been stolen from a school cafeteria. The spaghetti was from a box that was still poking out of the garbage pail, the sauce from a jar that was sitting be...
I had a dream about you. You were wearing a spaghetti strainer as a helmet, and I said, “I demand you take my fishbowl off your head at once.” But the truth is it didn’t matter, because my fish had dried up and died weeks ago. That’s kind of ...
