Love splattered on my life like bird shit on a windshield.
I have the ostrich of an asshole. I also have the asshole of an ostrich. With these two things, I have everything I need. Well, aside from love.
I’d make a better lover than a dead bird. Probably.
Check a phone book out of a library. Inside is a foggy castle covered by a black leather glove, watched over by a shaggy gray dog. My name is written in numbers in the sky by the hand of Hans H. Handey.
This book is full of empty love quotes. If you are looking for the meaning of life and love, then this book is for you. You won’t find the answers here, of course, but you’ll be more encouraged than ever to keep on looking. Or maybe you’ll be d...
I love with the heart of two men. Well, I would, if that damned neurosurgeon would go ahead and replace my left brain with the heart of a midget.
I trained for months to be a boxer. Not Mike Tyson style, but more like Fed Ex. I’m a lover, not a fighter. Well, I’m not really a lover, but I am slightly more romantic than I am brave, and I’m not at all courageous.
I’m a fake fact factory. The things I make are the things I make up. Also, as a side business, I make love. Actually, I just made that up.
Gas masks could be converted into blowjob machines—and finally put your mom out of business. That’s capitalism. That’s war. That’s love.
My love sits on the stove like a cat with an oven mitt for an ass.
I wear my cat like a purring fur coat. Love is such a warm feeling, no?
My cat is a meow factory. Why can’t he manufacture something more profitable, like love?
I believe in the power of love. Also, I like cats.
The only thing cats love more than food is sleep. We have that in common.
Love is like walking while riding a bicycle. It’s pretty hard to do when you’re curled up like a cat, sleeping in a wheelchair.
It’s raining cats and dogs. Good thing meows and barks bounce off my umbrella, and I just poured a large cup of love in the left cup of your bra when you weren’t looking.
Women, who understands them? Not men—and certainly not women. Perhaps only cats do. But who understands cats? Perhaps only Orafoura, the last remaining Cupid and sole savior of earthly love.
A cat’s meow can be a scream, a laugh, a sigh, a hello, a yes, and even an I love you.
The best present is wrapped in fur. And when you shake the package, it meows. Give the gift of love, before it runs away and gets run over.
When I help you, I feel good, you feel good, and the videographer I hired to document my generosity, altruism, and all around awesomeness feels good. I never knew how much love I had to give until the camera started recording.
Our relationship is getting serious. I now know she likes Karaoke. Next she’ll tell me she loves coffee. And then she’ll say she loves me—but not as much as she loves coffee.
