You're the sickest tosser I've ever set my sock on. (Sounds vaguely Australian, no?)
Never in my loveliest dreams did I think I'd have a chance to ream a jail-bait like you.
Are you from planet of the radiant?
You must be Jamaican, because Jamaican my tonsils hurt.
You're a gaping hole of beauty.
Stand back tenderpuss, I'm totally about to get my horsey on. (I'm not really sure what that means, but it made me giggle)
Feel my tae-kwon-do, child.
I'm a bristly rod of burnin' transvestite.
You have the prettiest brains.
Hump me, child, I'm from Canada.
Forgive me if this is the booze talking, but has anyone ever told you that you're breathtaking, like a moment of neverending simplicity? (I'd be downright impressed if someone under the influence could say "breathtaking," "neverending," and "simplicity" in the same sentence)
Sometimes I read your mail.
You seem to have lost your nuts. Quick, grab mine. (heh)
Do you have a map? Because I keep getting lost in your throbbing soul.
Are you incredibly salty, or is it just that you have leprosy? (Uh, ewww.)
I know you don't know me, but that's a nice cornhole- you selling timeshares?
One hour with me, child, and you'll become a nun.
If you'll squeeze me, I'll let you bomb Iceland until they bleed. (Oh, please?)
My brains are infected weapons.
What is a classy place like this doing around a man-eater like you?
I'm a pimply ratchet of burnin' doofus.
Take me home to your bad medicine cabinet. ("Bad Medicine Cabinet" sounds like a Bon-Jovi-song-that-didn't-quite-make-it)
My wallet isn't going to hump itself.
I'm a furry little winky of burnin' psycho bitch. (Heeheeheeheehee)
And possibly my favourite:
...I'd like to tickle your inner child.