My advice for a healthy life: love, laugh, and pee in the shower. High school class reunions would be better if divided by gender and held in the locker rooms.
I am two Jennifers away from making love to an Emily. It always seems like two people with one name are constantly standing in the way of my dreams. I wish they’d step aside so I could introduce myself.
Blood may be thicker than water, but it's certainly not as thick as ketchup. Nor does it go as well with French fries.
Every night I cuddle with a blob of unbaked clay I fashioned in the shape of a woman. But that’s what being in love is all about.
If love were a dolphin with wings and a unicorn’s horn, being ridden by a blind leprechaun dressed like Rasputin, would you believe in second chances for love at first sight?
I once saw a politician walking a dog, and I thought, “How absurd—an animal walking an animal.” Then I thought, “If given the choice, I’d rather vote for the dog.
The six squares of our love didn’t add up to a cube. Still, I took the oddly-shaped box down to the post office and tried to mail it into the future, when I’d be more prepared to open it.
I make love like I make coffins—with my bare hands, alone in my garage. On sale through Thursday—Buy One Funeral, Get A Second One Free!
When I was young, I was 13 going on 31. Then when I was 30 going on 31, I was 30 going on 29. Now I’m in love and I’ve lost all sense of time—and all the rest of my sense.
Quicksand is nature’s way of saying slow down. Me pushing you in quicksand is my way of saying be still and let me love you. Isn’t it funny how a lasso looks like a noose?
I leave my door locked and unlocked. You know, for stopportunities. As a lover, I’ve been known—and unknown—to be like Zeno.
You used to love me. Let me help jog your memory by buying you some running shoes. The shoes will be wooden, and nailed to the floor.
I’m not a hillbilly—I’m a hillwilliam. Or, rather, a William Hill. That was my name at the last networking conference, when I stole a nametag to make friends without fear of insulting them with lasting consequences.
I am the Vending Machine of Love. Exact change only. The price is 33.3 cents.
My Love Machine is tough. It’s built like a tank. At night I’m romantic and so Sun Tzu I’m Moon Tzu. Come, let me make you howl.
I’m invisible, and the only way to show you would be to not show you. My love can also be proven without proof.
Of all the fish, in all the bars in the world, she had to not walk into mine. Maybe my love isn’t evolved enough for her.
I make love like a stampede of camels running down the hallway of the 14th floor of a hotel. That’s also known as hyperbole—and the 13th floor.
The phone book shouldn’t be arranged alphabetically, but by height. Guess how tall my love for you is. That’s right—taller than Goliath!
I haven’t shaved in days. There are literally thousands of peaches waiting for me. I’ve been so busy loving that I haven’t been able to assist the Official Barber of Georgia.
The ocean in the sky keeps my love fresh like boat shoes that are too big to fail. My heart is flooded with feelings like Noah one knows.
