“I want a trophy wife. I’ll keep her on the shelf next to my future Nobel peace prize. (I plan on inventing a gun that shoots love, not bullets.)
”

“I want a trophy wife, because the only thing I’ve ever won is a fourth-place ribbon in the fourth grade. I’d treat her well, and I wouldn’t let her get too dusty on the shelf.”

“While I appear to be happy and giggling, rest assured that inside I am sad. And angry. Like that one time—Feb 14, 1997, at 1:47 pm to be exact—when John Beaverthief stole my girlfriend. He snatched her from the shelf of my life like she was a trophy wife. But she was no trophy; she was more of a maquette.”

“A vibrating toothbrush is one hygienic marvel of a sex toy. The next time I want to make love, I’ll make a dentist appointment.”

“I think guns would be more effective if bullets worked like boomerangs.”

“At the gun range I can’t hit the paper bull’s eye, no matter how carefully I aim at my wife.”

“I keep my love in the fridge, next to my meat, because you simply can’t beat it.”