“Do you find it erotic how my pants bulge in the crotch, where I keep my coffee cup?”

“The zipper on my crotch is an air vent. I need some way to cool down my hot coffee.”

“My coffee gets increasingly better the more I drink and the closer I come to the bottom of the cup, where all the sugar is. I wonder if life is the same way as we approach the end.”

“Her name was Rebecca. Or at least that’s what her nametag said. She was making my coffee at Starbucks as I admired how her green Starbucks apron matched her bright green eyes. She had hair the color of coffee with a hint of cream in it. I was trying to act casual and not make it seem like I came in here only to see her. The truth is, I hate coffee. That’s not entirely true. I do like a hint of coffee in my cup of sugar.”

“I like to hike in state parks, but one thing I can’t stand is pants. So I don’t wear any. My wallet is tube shaped. Can you guess where I keep it?”

“My coffee cup didn’t come with a sleeve, but that’s OK, because I’m wearing a tank top.”

“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.”