I have paid as much as $300 a night to throw up into a sink shaped like a seashell.

I am always behind the shopper at the grocery store who has stitched her coupons in the lining of her coat and wants to talk about a 'strong' chicken she bought two weeks ago. The register tape also runs out just before her sub-total. In the public restroom, I always stand behind the teen-ager who is changing into her band uniform for a parade and doesn't emerge until she has combed the tassels on her boots, shaved her legs, and recovered her contact lens from the commode.

After age twelve, birthdays should be as private as hernia surgery.

There is one thing I have never taught my body how to do and that is to figure out at 6 A.M. what it wants to eat at 6 P.M.

People usually survive their illnesses, but the paper work eventually does them in. Filing a claim for insurance is terminal.

The hippopotamus is a vegetarian and looks like a wall. Lions who eat only red meat are sleek and slim. Are nutritionists on the wrong track?

I have just come up with a wonderful solution to end all wars. Let me give directions on how to get there.