To postulate on the essence and identity of art is to stare into the entropic abyss.

I'm going to go home now, guys. hopefully, I can make it without soiling my car.

Mondays are terrible days for they remind us of the futility of our working life in comparison to the bliss of our weekends.

Asian women in bikini tops can sell anything.

I think 'in a meeting' is a euphemism for spending the morning in the restroom puking up a late night's worth of stale chips and cheap alcohol.

. . . it'll have the performance of a sedated walrus in an off-mating season slumber.

A little narcissism never hurt me.

The only good mornings are ones filled with sex, but as there is this phenomenon called "Morning Breath" I highly doubt even those mornings exist. Thus, there are no good mornings.

The only thing we have to fear is another Monday.

. . . wives can be more interesting than their cooking talents. :P