Boy, the DMV has got to be the strangest dating agency. But I suppose love is worth the wait. If I don’t meet a woman here, there’s this new club called The Morgue I want to check out.
Squeeze out the competition—with hugs. I’m giving out FREE hugs while samples last. After that I’ll have to charge an arm and a leg—or maybe just two arms.
Her love stays with me wherever I go. That’s because I have it on a leash, like a dog, and I take it for walks like I do with my pet wheelchair.
I make naked, and I make it by hand. I also make it using the rest of my body. Coming soon to a Walmart near you.
If you convert a shower curtain to a dress, I’ll wear my waterproof dancing shoes. Together we’ll move so fluidly people will line up to get cleansed.
Coin a new word and hear it jingle in your pocket with all your other change. My love for you is sofacouchsitsitting, so you’d better buckle up.
I’m an only child, and therefore I gave birth to my parents, because if it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t even be parents.
We made love like a goat has four legs like a table. If your dining room table can walk, it’s best to eat while sitting in wheelchairs.
I'm offering you love on a stick. If you'd like, you can grab it to go. It’s like a popsicle, only it won’t melt if you put it through hell like you did with you last boyfriend.
All that separated our love lives was one wall, and I was peeping through it. I was wearing Tom’s nametag, so why shouldn’t I act like him?
Granddaddy Cove, it’s where all the lost hugs are. I know where the treasure is buried, and I’ll take you there for a small finder’s fee.
I make ridiculous like I make damn sure nobody sees me when I do. I make it by hand and then I sell it on Etsy. Buy local.
If I were hairy, would you vacuum my chest before we made love? I’d probably have enough chip crumbs in it to feed the homeless, because I’m a charitable kind of guy.
I only like bubble gum if it’s flavored like the bottom of my shoe. I once stepped on my stepdad, but he was dressed like a puddle so it’s not like I’m at fault.
My neck size is about the size of both of my girlfriend’s clenched hands. They say strangulation is a crime of passion, and I say it’s the sign of romance in a relationship.
Instead of a gun in my holster, I hold cheesy nachos there, for dangerous snacking. Instead of a horse, this cowboy rides a couch.
The river didn’t fall down the mountain. No, it took the escalator. I love swimming down stairs like I’m Michael Phelps in a wheelchair.
I single-handedly lost the clapping competition. After that nobody wanted to co-clap with me, so I got zero high-fives.
Your deceit smells like a fake mustache. Nobody stole my facial hair. I shaved this morning and donated half of it to the Humane Society. The other half I kept for sentimental petting reasons.
I’m ready for Betty if Debbie calls. I’ve got two Susans worth of excitement saved up in my pockets, and my grandma pants couldn’t be tighter.
We see beyond our eyes, but not back into them, at least not without the self-deceptive help of a mirror. Squeegees are for lovers.
