Euripides’ Shorts

Pop it in, sit and spin, grin on the chin. And that’s how you assemble a swivel chair.

These Pop Tarts are makin’ my parts hop! More like sex’s’mores!

Never have I ever had great sex in such foul weather.

Well shit in my cereal bowl and call it Oops All Berries!

If you can’t take the smell, get out of the bathroom. Oh wait, it isn’t?

I have to admit, when you said you had a real donkey butt, I thought you meant something else.

When you’re balm-to-palm your dong is in it. At least mine is.

Twist the sanguine lingua wildly, watching whales o’er lurid, lightly turgid currents.

I’d stick my dick in a mousetrap for a Klondike bar.

Balls-deep, miles high, that’s the way I like to fly.

Snap, crackle, and pop—I just farted.

Some people say a man is made out of mud. A poor man’s made out of muscle an’ blood—muscle an’ blood an’ skin an’ boners, a mind that’s a-weak an’ a dad that’s a stoner.

Pump yourself before you hump yourself.

Everybody pants down!

Spank yourself before you crank yourself.

If whiffs of butts were candy and nuts my uncle wouldn’t be in prison.

Welcome to Comedy Dry Hump! Oops, wrong podcast.

I picked up CBB on my CB while driving to the CDC after watching a DVD.

CBB deez nuts!

“Catch this, bang that,” meowed the baseball-throwing cat.

You say “tomato,” I say “live review fruit.”

Theirs not to reason why, / Theirs but to sit and spin.

I’m sorry, but your pricing scheme for hot cross buns makes no sense.

Drill a hole in a ham, cram a sausage in there, and THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is how sex works.

Run around. Eat flowers. Puke. Work your ass off, then die. Bees really have it all figured out.