“I’ll tug at your breasts like a thirsty child. Try not to burn your nipples in my hot coffee. While you’re at it, I also like sugar in my coffee.”

“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?
”

“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.”

“My favorite salad dressing is vodka. And my favorite ice cream flavor is coffee, though I prefer it melted and hot enough to burn flesh.”

“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.”

“In exchange for my silence, I want a box of quiet. Empty—and full.
That’s also how I like my morning coffee at night.”

“I had a dream my house was on fire, and I tried to rescue all the cats—and none of the politicians. You can burn my house, but don’t you dare burn my coffee.”