I love hellos that last a lifetime, and goodbyes that are invisible, inaudible, and otherwise undetectable. Tell your mom I’m waving at her.
A squeegee is a sponge on a stick, and if there is a tangible item that’s more romantic, I don’t know what it is. Never go on a first date without one.
A can’t in a can—it’s carbonated failure that’s ready to drink. It tastes like the back half of love.
A turtle is like a lizard in a bicycle helmet, and I think that’s romantic. That reminds me, I should write a love song called, “Dinner for two—plus one.
I drive as fast as four tire swings hanging from a tree branch in the middle of winter. I also make love with as much speed and rotation.
I need more frugality. I wonder where I can buy some.
A gumble bee is half gum ball, half bumble bee, and it’s so chewy it stings. Makes me want to be a better lover and tractor salesman.
Using my nipples as bait, I went fishing for compliments. I got a few bites, but nothing to write about in Field & Stream.
My feet are dense with dance. I move like I’m wearing concrete boots and I’m trying to tread water. If the music is salsa, I may start gargling.
If I waste all my charity, all I’ll wind up with in the end is the wind. Still, I think I want to be the Dandelion of Love.
Her and I, we have a two chairs and a table kind of love. You should pull up a feeling and have a seat.
I have the lips of a lisp, and I kiss like kith. It sounds silly, but it feels more romantic.
I smell like cat snuggles and sex, though from two different activities. I have just perfected my meatloaf-flavored ice cream, if you want to grab a spork.
Half man, half tree, I have patience—and leaves. Forest fires make me sweat. Let’s go for a walk. You’ll have to push me in a wheelbarrow.
To be the best, you have to do what nobody does. And nobody does nothing great anymore, which is why I’ll be great by doing nothing great.
I once saw two rocks having sex, and I just shook my head because how stupid are those rocks? Don’t they know life only comes from life? Still, I voted for the rock on the left, because we live in a political country where you are free to choose—...
A vagina is not like a car door, no matter how hard you slam it. That’s why I prefer to drive Jeeps.
Instead of rolling out the red carpet, what about a cherry Fruit Roll-Up? Sometimes celebrity is a path you have to eat in retreat.
