Category: Quips

What’s up, porn star?

The guy’s a thousand. What’s he gonna do, take a steamer over to Europe, open up a café, and finally meet that nine hundred-year-old girl of his dreams?

I don’t ever want to hear anything that’s come out of that man’s mouth; unless, of course, it’s Oh, my God! I’m dying. Now I’m moving towards the light. But wait a minute, there’s been a mistake! This is Hell! Hello, Hitler. Hello, Mussolini. Captain Kangaroo? That’s weird!”

Goodness gracious. Suddenly I’m getting the most intense headache.

Mr. Morrison, I understand that one of our interns spent an hour in here telling you over and over that you are going to die. I would make him apologize personally, but I’m having him spend the rest of the day checking that countertop’s heartbeat.

Holy moly! That would’ve been really embarrassing if you were black.

The key to my exercise program is this one simple truth: I hate my body.”

I love the poetry of someone putting himself way up on a pedestal and then getting knocked the hell back down into this puddle of self-hatred…with the rest of us.

In my defense, I didn’t know you were behind me because I didn’t hear anybody telling me what a horrible person I am.

Let’s go, Gandhi! You’re on!