If you guys think I’m Heavenly now, wait ‘til you try me with sprinkles!

“I hate to burst your bubble, fellas.  But you ain’t nailing me to shit.”

for Laphroaig cask strength Were you a woman, oh glass of Scotch, I’d puzzle over your dank and peaty stink—then throw caution to the wind and enjoy your delectable funk       just the same.

What I really like about you is you don’t drip hot wax on my books. —Though in fairness to candles, you don’t drip hot wax on my thighs, either.

“Sometimes, when the mood is just right, I like to have myself.  In the spring.”

Were I a rhetorical question, do you really believe I’d be wasting my time writing stupid      poems?

Winter’s end brings thoughts of girls in summer dresses. The hot, hot strumpets!

Winter’s end brings thoughts of girls in summer dresses. The filthy strumpets.

Speaking of Edward Asner, which one of you bitches ate my leftover corned beef and cabbage?  Because I was saving that for lunch tomorrow—and now I’m going to have to make due with, like, herring and a pudding cup.”

“Common sense is not so common.  Or, put another way, deer are sooo daft!