“My hands fell asleep, so I washed them with hot coffee. Then I had donuts for breakfast, by way of spinning circles in my car and burning rubber in the parking garage of my office building.”

“Growing up, my bedroom was like a garage, only much smaller and with more lawnmowers in it (we had to store them there because the garage was crowded with the 14-person dining room table—despite there being only four of us in the house). I’m just thankful my parents didn’t park their cars in the living room.”

“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.”

“I want a house with a garage, so someone from the government won’t try to park a tank in my living room.”

“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.”

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

“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.”