Don't Think This Has Taught Me A

Wracked With A Hangover I Do My Muttering Over A Black Velvet, A Union Of Champagne And Stout. Don't Be Swindled Into Believing There's Any Cure For A Hangover. I've Tried Them All: Iced Tomatoes, Hot Clam Juice, Brandy Peaches. Like The Common Cold It Defies Solution. Time Alone Can Stay It. The Hair Of The Dog? That Way Lies Folly. It's As Logical As Trying To Put Out A Fire With Applications Of Kerosene.

If I Had To Live My Life Again, I'd Make The Same Mistakes, Only Sooner.

I'm The Foe Of Moderation, The Champion Of Excess. If I May Lift A Line From A Die-hard Whose Identity Is Lost In The Shuffle, 'i'd Rather Be Strongly Wrong Than Weakly Right.'

I've Tried Several Varieties Of Sex. The Conventional Position Makes Me Claustrophobic, And The Others Either Give Me A Stiff Neck Or Lockjaw.

[to The Man Who Came Up To Her At A Party And Exclaimed Effusively, 'tallulah! I Haven't Seen You For 41 Years!':] I Thought I Told You To Wait In The Car.