If I'm in Italy, I'm going to have a cappuccino and two small brioches and then a mix of orange and grapefruit. I don't drink tea in Italy.
I am grateful. . . grapefruit.
Life. . . is like a grapefruit. Well, it's sort of orangey-yellow and dimpled on the outside, wet and squidgy in the middle. It's got pips inside, too. Oh, and some people have half a one for breakfast.
I am a grateful. . . grapefruit.
Hollywood's a great place to live. . . if you're a grapefruit.
I got balls the size of grapefruits!
If I filled the Earth with blueberries, I would have the same number as atoms in a grapefruit.
The grapevine should be named after a more bitter fruit. It should be called the grapefruit tree.
Life. . . is like a grapefruit. It's orange and squishy, and has a few pips in it, and some folks have half a one for breakfast.
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.
By God, I could make myself bring her that economically halved grapefruit, that sugarless breakfast.
