To show you how much I love you, I’d take you to the moon and back. Or try to fake it in a film studio.
My rules are as follows: don’t follow, unless there’s a fire. And in that case, follow from the front.
I want to merge oven mitts with boxing gloves, so I could effectively, and safely, fight fires. After all, fire fighters make better lovers.
I am mad in love like fire, and I speak sushi after a night of fingernail sandwiches. Last night’s sex was so scratchy that this morning my throat is sore.
A flowing flurry of flowers fell to the floor when I fell in love, as if my heart were a garden that gushed forth and flooded her being with the fragrance of romance.
I have rose-colored glasses. The frames have thorns.
I like movies that keep me guessing until the end. I always guess flowers, because no matter what type of movie, whether romance, mystery, or horror, nobody suspects the flowers.
I’m nothing. I’m just a humble man in a bumblebee costume trying to pollinate with a woman as romantic as a flower. Love doesn’t have to sting.
The sun is a flower, and it burns my goddamn nostrils like the scent of love, which I haven’t tasted since I put on my midnight-black blindfold. I’m just naturally romantic, I guess.
I was part of a focus group once, but to be honest, I couldn’t concentrate.
A half a hole is the same as a whole hole, no matter how much love you intend to bury. Love is a treasure, and to keep it safe you need to do as the pirates did—and focus on the booty. With treasure, it’s not about the chest—it’s all about th...
I don’t eat Sloppy Joes. I eat Tidy Josephs.
Pizza is circular. So is an hour. I’ll take two slices—to go.
If I were a waiter, and a bald guy complained there was a hair in his food, I’d say, “Keep it, compliments of the house. We all pitched in to give you that. Too bad we couldn’t come up with 80,000 more.
The reason we talk with the same part of the body we eat with is because if we tried to eat with our ears, and I have tried, then we would naturally have to have tongues in our ears. And most people, myself excluded, hate having tongues in their ears...
He wanted to pay me in agriculture, but I told him, "I need something that's going to put food on the table.
I look for patterns that nobody else does. Like I noticed that my face looks like a tablecloth. Especially when I have food all over it.
Today somebody asked me if I had to lose one of my senses, which would I choose? “Oh my God,” I said, “I’d choose smell.” But of course with that comes the loss of taste too. But who cares? I could eat cheap, flavorless gruel everyday with ...
Man has to eat, so thank God some food tastes good. However, if men had no taste buds, or sense of smell, all food would be good. So hooray! And also boo for boring. That’d mean nothing exciting to look forward to. However, you could eat healthy gr...
If two heads are better than one, then what about double chins? On that note, I will help myself to seconds.
I’d rather fake my own fog, than fake a steamy love scene. Can I interest you in some mist? It’s homemade.
