I was on a game show. When I lost, they gave me a lovely parting gift. It was a comb.

I gave her a parting gift, an alarm clock; it was mine, but it was broken. It was meant as an artifact, but the symbolism was unfortunate. Then she gave me a present, a set of knives. We were clueless. And, in the end, both innocent victims.

I bought this the day before at a shopping mall. I didn't want to forget him. Maybe I didn't want him to forget me.

One night after a show he gave me a gift. When I opened up the bag, he had made out of clay and dried macaroni a model of the universe with the planets and everything. Then in the middle of the model was an action figure with my face on it. I was the center of his universe.

Sex is like art. Most of it is pretty bad, and the good stuff is out of your price range.

As a lover, I'm about as impressive as a magician on the radio.