One does not have to sleep with, or even touch, someone who has paid for your meal. All those obligations are hereby rendered null and void, and any man who doesn't think so needs a quick jab in the kidney.

A person who uses party as a verb is a person who will walk into a shop and walk out wearing a rubber jumpsuit.

Here is Heimel's Law: Anything you fantasize about won't come true. So just cut it out.

Throughout their lives, women try to pummel their bodies into some phantom ideal shape that exists only with a lot of airbrushing. ... I don't blame men for this. Men seem to go for us no matter what size and shape we are. I blame capitalism. No, really. The consumer must constantly be in a state of anxious low self-esteem so that she will constantly buy lipsticks and girdles to make her feel cuter.

Pity the poor infant. Born perfect into the world from imperfect parents.

In Manhattan, marriage is a trend. Couples kiss over their arugula and radicchio salads. They fondle each other's genitals while devouring their pasta puttanesca. By the time the tiramisu arrives, they've slid under the table.

Women wearing men's clothes are chic, men wearing women's clothes make us fall on the floor laughing.