Euripides’ Shorts

When you’re feelin’ down to party but your ovulation’s hearty: pregnancy-a…pregnancy-a.

When you’re screwin’ ‘gainst the wall and forget about withdrawal: pregnancy-a…pregnancy-a.

In layman’s terms, Mr. Smith, you’ve blown an o-ring.

When you’re pumpin’ toward the shivers and the load you have delivers: pregnancy-a…pregnancy-a.

When you’re thrustin’ toward the shakes and the condom finally breaks: pregnancy-a…pregnancy-a.

Uh ohhh…Progesterone!

If you can’t answer the question, Mr. Hamlet, quit wasting class time.

To beat off or not to beat off, that is the question.

Catch THIS, asshole!

I love you like a long song, baby. Skeet skeet skeet skeet…skeet skeet skeet skeet skeet skeet.

The elephant in the room is that I have an elephant up my ass.

I don’t see how it can be avoided… That man has nurts the size of Pluto.

got nurts?

Is that an elephant up your ass or are you just happy to see me?

I’m sorry, Ms. Normus; I didn’t realize we were only doing introductions.

When you said, “That Dixie wrecked,” I thought you meant something else.

Man of the hour, man of the pajowa-er

It takes two, baby—usually the index and middle.

Did you hear the one about the cyclops with two brown eyes?

If I had a bus load of nuns for every time I heard someone say “if I had a nickel,” I could re-enact Sister Act enough times to reach the sun and back on a nickel fare.

I hate to disappoint, Dracula, but the blood drive was yesterday.

Tonight I’m gonna dance ‘til the cows come home…then it’s another long night of udder grabbing and kicked faces.

Diarrhea is a fickle mistress.

One part egg, one part skeet, bake for nine months, and voilà! The most overcooked clay pigeon omelet you’ve ever eaten.

You’ll rue the day you take a dump on MY face!