I am the ghost in the empty jar. My silence belongs in the cemetery, just like all my ex girlfriends. Long live love!
I make love like a backseat, not on a backseat. I’m both in motion, yet stationary. I would encourage you to encourage your mom to buckle up.
Virginia isn’t for lovers. Vagina is for lovers. Makes me wonder why there aren’t any for sale in any vending machines.
When your soul gets dry, you could either water it with alcohol—or love. You could use water, but remember—there can only be one Michael Phelps.
For dessert I ate a desert. It was sandy, and so was the name of the woman I ate dinner with. She had a dry sense of humor, and that is why I wore a raincoat.
Left-handed and eyes closed, it’s how I masturbate—while driving at night. If you want to know how I make love, you’re going to have to pay for admission.
Everywhere I go, I bring Bring, and a feeling of redundancy. I love you because I love you—and because I love you. What more do you want?
It was more like a movie. Everyone was wearing black, gray, or white except for her. She was in a red dress, and like a herd of bulls, the crowd was angry and made charges against her. Thankfully I was there to come to her defense, like a matador. Yo...
Love knows no boundaries. I wish I would have known that before I hired a cartographer to map out my romantic territory.
Love gives you wings. Icarus and the Challenger both had wings, and so did my first love letter, after I folded it up and flung it at my crush.
Love is a tomato. And while it's true that I can live without a tomato, I could sure go for some ketchup.
I am the washing machine of love. And if you have no idea what I mean, maybe it’s time to let some laundry into your life.
I made myself an “I Love Jennifer” jacket out of my old “I Love Jenn” jacket. Two girls, one continuous love. The I Love Jennifer is a little off-center, but then so am I. Better than being self-centered, as my clone would probably say.
33 old people went into a nursing home, and only 34 people came out alive. One old woman died while giving birth to twins.
I was nervous. Like an ice cube, I just froze up. Then I melted in some strange guy’s drink.
My love is like the shape your mouth makes while you whistle. Would you mind if I accompanied you on my harmonica?
-My son was 32 when he died. -Degrees? So he froze to death, huh?
Which half do you want me to cut in half, Mr. Halfofhalf? The name’s Onequarter. Johnny Onequarter. And don’t you forget it.
My love may be invisible, but that doesn’t mean you can’t taste it. (It tastes like a sonic boom, only not as bitter).
I’m putting the word “Don’t” on my To Do list.
When the clock reads 3:00, I don’t call it three o’clock, I call it three hundred, and I remember the Spartans. At 3:01, however, I remember what I was doing at 2:59, and I get back to it.
