“If coffee meant vagina, I’d ask you if you wanted cream in your coffee. But it doesn’t mean that, so I’ll just sit here and continue sipping my mug full of steaming vagina.”

“If someone asked me to pick out my own vagina’s mug shot out of a lineup of vaginas, I’d be helpless. And probably concerned about what exactly my vagina had been doing that constituted a need for its own mug shot.”

“You sure you don’t want me to stay? I’ll make you coffee and ask you about your day.”

“She took a sip of the coffee and then said, “Manna. Thank you, Sir.”“Now I really do know how to punish you.”She curled both hands around the mug. “You wouldn’t take away my coffee!”“Only if I feared for my life,” he said, carrying food to the table.”

“What... what are you doing here?"He's shaking his head as he walks my way; a steaming coffee mug is in his hand."What am I doing here? I live here.""Y-you do? How did I get here?"He starts to laugh. "You don't remember?""No... I really don't."He places the mug in front of me. "You called me on your cell. I found you spaced out of your mind in an alley behind the bar. You were talking to a cat. You claimed it was your mother.”

“Respect doesn’t have to be shiny. It just needs to be wearable. Would you be so kind as to hold my jockstrap while I stir your hot coffee?
”