The art of conversation

Female: I had the best lunch today. It was orgasmic.

Me: I think you stuck the bratwurst in the wrong orifice.

Female: It wasn't bratwurst. It was a salad.

Me: I used to know a girl who tasted like tomatoes and ranch dressing down there.

Female: It was a Greek salad.

Me: Hey, I'm not judging. Some people can't fight the urge. I mean, with the salad dressing like it wants it... Get it? Salad dressing. Wants it.

Female: You goddamn sicko. I didn't fuck my salad.

Me: What do you want, a medal? You're not supposed to fuck salads. My mongoloid brother knows that.

Female: You can't call him a mongoloid!!!

Me: And to tell the truth, I can't honestly say he doesn't fuck his salads. Ice cream too. Seems like it would be too cold. He needs to find himself an Eskimo woman. He kinda looks--

Female: Don't say it.

Me: --like he's got a lot of love in him.

Female: I think I may never speak to you again.