Unconventional Gifts Quotes

Great talents are the most lovely and often the most dangerous fruits on the tree of humanity. They hang upon the most slender twigs that are easily snapped off.

I just bought a great gift for my boss - a leaky ant farm.

I never expected to get the Tom Jones treatment and it amazes me that I do. Strangely it's women who throw their underwear at me when I'm performing live. My male fans tend to be quite shy. My female fans are wild. I never know what to do with all the lingerie that lands at my feet. Maybe I should open a shop.

I bought an ideal gift for my mother-in-law - a battery-operated mouth.

My parents didn't like me. For bathtub toys they gave me a blender and a transistor radio.

I have no idea why a guy would bring a jar of peanut butter to a concert.

At Christmas, I no more desire a rose.

One Christmas, Dennis Dermody, the movie critic of 'Paper,' gave me 'Rock Hudson: A Gathering of Friends,' the master invitation list from Rock Hudson's memorial service. It's so great. Everyone's in it, with personal addresses all bound into a book. Someone else once gave me Ike Turner's will. I get great stuff.

Having one of the highest IQs ever measured is as much a curse as it is a blessing. My parents were great, though: they were always seeking the most difficult presents possible for me - Rubik's cubes and things like that.

Since I don't smoke, I decided to grow a mustache - it is better for the health. However, I always carried a jewel-studded cigarette case in which, instead of tobacco, were carefully placed several mustaches, Adolphe Menjou style. I offered them politely to my friends: "Mustache? Mustache? Mustache?" Nobody dared to touch them. This was my test regarding the sacred aspect of mustaches.

You might be a redneck if you give your dad a gallon of Pepto-Bismol for his birthday.

He didn't give me flowers or candy. He gave me the moon and the stars. Infinity.

No one ever pretended that shopping for anything is a rational experience. If it were, would there be Fluffernutter? Laceless sneakers? Porkpie hats? Would the Chia Pet even exist?

Loads of weirdos send me things, like strange bits of leather. And then there was the guy who thought I was having his baby. Apparently, he's been writing to Princess Anne too, so I clearly belong to a good, erm, sub-section of society.

Everywhere I look, there are ads marking Mother's Day. Mostly they conform to stereotype: flowers, jewelry, perfume. Not a lot of books. Not many computers. Few tools. Little that's useful.

My mom always puts a grapefruit in my stocking. I like grapefruit, but why put it in a stocking like it's a gift? It's almost as bad as coal.

The nicest present I ever got was an exploding suppository.