I serve dinner in three phases: serve the food, clear the table, bury the dead.
Comedy is tragedy revisited or hostility. It is mock hostility, of course, or it would be ugly; we would have a war.
If your husband wants to lick the beaters on the mixer, shut them off before you give them to him.
All I ever learned at my mother’s knee was what a bony knee looked like.
Fang and I are always fighting. When we get up in the morning, we don’t kiss; we touch gloves.
The only thing my husband and I have in common is that we were married on the same day.
I’ve tried Buddhism, Scientology, Numerology, Transcendental Meditation, Qabbala, t’ai chi, feng shui and Deepak Chopra but I find straight gin works best.
I became a stand-up comedienne because I had a sit-down husband.
How do you know they’re growing up? Well, the bite marks are higher.
I am descended from a very long line my mother once foolishly listened to.
Would you believe that I once entered a beauty contest? I must have been out of my mind. I not only came in last, I got 361 get-well cards.
You can say the nastiest things about yourself without offending anyone.
The best contraceptive for old people is nudity.
I’m beginning to have morning sickness. I’m not having a baby, I’m just sick of morning.
Do not taste food while you’re cooking. You may lose your nerve to serve it.
The only parts left of my original body are my elbows.
Your husband is lazy if the directions on his medicine say, “A teaspoon before going to bed,” and in one day he uses seven bottles.
Your husband is lazy if coffee doesn’t keep him awake – even when it’s hot and being spilled on him.
My husband is so cheap. On Christmas Eve, he fires one shot and tells the kids Santa committed suicide.
Once my husband said to me, ‘I’m going to have some coffee. Do you want me to put some hot water on for you?’ I thought that was the least he could do considering I was giving birth.
I’m looking for a perfume to overpower men – I’m sick of karate.