“My day starts like a regular guy’s. I wake up, drink raw eggs, run around Philadelphia, and punch raw slabs of meat. Wait, that’s not my story—that’s Rocky’s. I get us confused all the time.”

“I’m older now than my dad was when he was my age. Wait, that’s not right. That’s not my dad at all, that’s just some stranger hanging around in my memory.
”

“I punched him 14 times in the face, and he didn’t even try to hit me back. He wasn’t a pacifist, but he was already as dead as a slab of meat.”

“I was nervous. Like an ice cube, I just froze up. Then I melted in some strange guy’s drink.”

“Gin is a confusing drink. It’s the only liquid that’s both wet and dry.”

“I put a saddle on my salad, and I rode my horseradish to Rhode Island, where I was just in time to be late. I think I left my time zone change in my Arizona iced tea, so all I have to offer you to drink is water that’s been redirected from the Colorado River through a series of pipes and political litigation.”

“I snorted powdered flamingoes while I pondered love. I sat at the bar two hours waiting for my ice on the rocks to melt so I could drink it and leave, but it was like my ex wife’s heart—it was just too frigid to melt. So I called up a midget, buckled myself in on his back, and had him give me a ride home. Ah, but that’s life, no?”