If my name were C. Ross, I’d definitely be religious.
I’m a romantic. I like cold coffee and orgasms that arrive fifteen minutes after I’ve put on my clothes and paid the lady.
Love is something to be treated with awe. Or should it be aww? People don’t know my capacity for love. If you tried to bottle it up, I’m sure it would take at least three thermoses to contain it. And if it did get contained, would you drink my lo...
This book is dedicated to all the lawn chairs in all the living rooms of the world. I pray this book provides your owners with the strength, courage, and the wisdom to vacuum their lawns and mow their carpets without the government having to interven...
Dance like there’s nobody watching. Or filming. Never mind that creepy guy in the corner with the camcorder. Just keep dancing.
I remember the second time I took Agatha out. I wanted to go to Dairy Queen, and she wanted to go to Burger King. In the end we settled for wieners and clams at Johnny Hermaphrodite’s.
For our fourth date, I said I wanted Italian, and she said she wanted Chinese. We decided to compromise and meet at the movie theater after we’d both eaten.
On my first date with Agatha, I wore tight green Spandex, which made my skinny legs look like asparagus. Knowing no heterosexual woman could resist such a temptation, I set out to seduce her.
Going down my list of notable women in my life, we come to Y. Y for Yolanda, and as you might have prophetically foretold, we met at the Y (YMCA). She looked like a beaver, smelled like a skunk, and may or may not have been dead for days when we were...
If you look up to see a shooting star, you might miss the silver dollar on the sidewalk. But no matter where you look, or where you travel, you’ll never get lost or arrive late to your own death.
Her dad died unexpectedly, so I hid the flowers, because flowers are reminders of spring and life, and also of headstones and death. Also, I hid the flowers because they were for another woman.
If I die, who’s going to take care of my shadow? Or will it return to the night, from whence it came? While I sleep at night I keep my shadow folded neatly in my underwear drawer.
I have thought carefully on how to leave this world, and I have concluded that I should exit the same way I entered: through a vagina. But not my mother’s.
Agatha loved military men. Actually, she loved men in uniform. And my bowling league outfit used to drive her wild with desire.
The first time I saw Agatha she gave me a double wink. Most men might have interpreted it as a blink, but I saw it as a sexually developed ambidextrous double wink. Such talent! Such desire!
It’s day number six after Agatha broke up with me. I’ve taken over seven hundred pictures documenting my emotions as reflected by my facial expressions. I think the one that most accurately sums up how I feel is image number 389. I call it “Cer...
The difference between you and him and him and me isn’t different at all: we’re all different.
In the end, single people either get boring, or they stay divorced.
Witnesses in my dream can place me in my bed, asleep, at the time of the murder.
When our dreams were nothing more than pancake batter, I was there for her, making breakfast.
I made a graph of my emotions, a chart, and when I looked it over I was amazed to notice that the day Agatha broke up with me looked identical to the stock market crash of 1929. I thought I was the Irving Fisher of love.
