I love coffee like I love making love. It’s like liquid sex, except you don’t want to spill it all over your crotch.

Like Blue Ribbon Coffee, my love is in second place. But that’s OK, because like Blue Ribbon Coffee, I have winning taste.

We made love, we drank coffee, and then we went our separate ways. I went west, and she went to hell. Or at least I hope she did.

The smell of coffee was enough to wake up my neighbors. In a display of gratitude, they complained about my music being too loud.

If I were deaf, I’d wear loud clothing. My clothes would also be covered in coffee stains, because Helen Keller is my hero.

I'll know coffee works without cream and sugar when I see people buying unsweetened bakers chocolate for Valentine's Day.

You wanna-I dunno-get coffee or something sometime?"Justin smiled "Not coffee. But yes.""Not Coffee it is, then.""Yes, Not Coffee.

Blood is like water, to a vampire. And coffee is like blood, to a tired mosquito. And my love is like an itch—and a scratch.

Flower coffee—less caffeinated, more romantic. I wanted to be with her, but when I was, I felt like I’d rather wither.

Coffee, it’s love you can brew and drink. There is an edible kind of love, and if you’re interested, I make it by hand.

I want a coffee machine that runs on gasoline and drives me to work. We can make love in the backseat, next to the cream and sugar.

I wear glasses. They improve my hearing, Helen Keller style. And I sip coffee like a mute orator on a meteor. Drink up the deafness.

The swimming pool was drained of water. That’s why I went fishing in it. Go ahead, ask me what I did in your empty coffee cup.

I sat down to think. I didn’t want to drink my coffee, but I paid for it, so I thought I might as well torture myself with it.

Go sip on gossip, and leave the coffee talk for me to chug. I’ll be in the kitchen, giggling like a schoolgirl if you need me.