Guess The Mannequin” with me and two mannequins, you’d pick me, because I’m the quiet one. Still, it’s important for me to get out and meet people, even if that means hanging around department stores...

Let me be clear: I don’t want to make love to a mannequin—I want to make love like a mannequin. Oh, if only I were that animated in bed.

Mannequin parts disassembled and discombobulated coming together for a good cause—to sell some clothes. That’s what charity is all about.

Mannequin Love.

I had a dream about you. I asked you to dance, and you said you already had a partner. That was when I noticed you were embracing a mannequin, and I felt my face get...

Her coming alone made me want to Mannequin all over myself, but I managed to contain myself like a microwave dinner. Sometimes love is frozen until you get off your sofa to take action.

I had a dream about you. I ran a marathon like a mannequin stands still, and you stood still like Roger Bannister runs errands.

Using a mannequin and some rope, could you ride two bicycles at once? Next time, try three bikes. Then truly love someone, because that’s even harder.

I make love like a mannequin mimicking a statue, only with less movement and more grunting.

will be at noon.” I’d better write and mail all my love letters in my mannequin handwriting.

I like my women like I like my sugar—refined. Actually, I like my sugar natural, like my mannequin sex.

The issue, let’s pick it up in the AM. The mannequin, let’s pick it up now and dance like our stiff moves are cool and by design.

Beth We Steve I know you can Dave. I’m a lover, not a We’re Closed Until Further Notice kind of mannequin. Your donkey is my motorcycle of desire.

Her cold, dead body was as stiff as a mannequin, but that didn’t stop me from asking her to dance. I was confident that even as a corpse she’d still have more fluidity on the...

I have a body like a mannequin. I must, because instead of women trying to get me naked, they only want to see me with clothes on.

I love how sincere she is. She makes a mannequin look like Mother Theresa, though she looks better naked. And I hope she thinks I look better naked than a dead woman.

March 1898What a strange dream I had last night! I wandered in the warm streets of a port, in the low quarter of some Barcelona or Marseille. The streets were noisome, with their freshly-heaped piles...

Sure, I’d fake my own death. But only if I had the following items: duct tape, seven slinkies, a parachute, and a mannequin that looked like me.

If I were a mannequin, I’d know people would only want me for my body. But that’s OK, because that’s how it is now.