I’m an all-the-water-I-can-drink-in-a-flower-vase kind of lover. Roses and batteries sold separately.
All my failures as a human being I blame on my father. Life is about accepting responsibility, and it’s time my father started being held accountable for my deficiencies.
I’ll text my old cell phone and say, “Is this Jarod? This is Jarod. I’m you—from the future. I’m exactly like you—only better! By the way, congrats on your upcoming wedding! Spoiler alert: divorce
His hair isn’t turning gray—it’s turning silver, and it’s going up in value. Aging is the best hedge against an inflationary fiat currency.
My eyes are bronze, my hair is turning silver, and my heart is gold. Oh, and my love for you belongs in the Olympics, because it’s Special.
A tree with red leaves is like an old man with gray hair. Likewise, my love for you was blue, but now it’s orange, and that’s a compliment.
I ordered a beer and then I ordered another beer, because why finish one when I can finish two? Having only one is great for love, but bad for beer.
Love burns. Whiskey burns. George Burns. What do all three have in common? They’re all dead to me.
I used the boos, and not the booze, as motivation. That led to applause, which I drank up like an alcoholic. I need a refill.
When I die, remember to remove my body from the cooler before you start making the hunch punch. But by all means, do get drunk on my memory.
I plead the fifth—and then I drank it. I was drunk on love, but wouldn’t admit it. I was also drunk on whiskey, but the breathalyzer outed me.
I love you the way ice melts in vodka—slowly, seamlessly, and invisibly. It’s a feel-good feeling whether you see it or not.
For me to enjoy a salad, I need the right dressing. Vodka is salad dressing, right?
Your fantasies define you, so dream carefully. A man with no imagination is a man with no future in today’s world—and no past in tomorrow’s.
Love is like 9.75 plus .25. That’s 10, for all of you people trying to add fractions on your fingers. I can only count using eight, because I’m too busy using my middle fingers to tell the politicians how much I love them.
I lost my temper today. Fuck it. Whoever finds it can keep it.
Tempers are temporary, but hateful and hurtful words can be remembered forever. Leave a legacy of love and say only kind things.
The middle finger is a great body language tool for letting people know you’re upset. Poetry isn’t quite as effective in a fit of road rage.
New streets should be Twitter friendly and be named with hashtags up front. I’d build a house on #LoversLane.
Together kabobs make the world better than all the Bobs combined. Well, at least ever since Bob Ross moved on to the land of the happy trees.
In the lobby of every business incubator there needs to be a bathtub, to get the ideas flowing. But to make it funktional, it needs to be used as a fish tank.
