The two squirrels quarreled like lovers, and it moved me so much I made both into one toupee. I’m not bald, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wear it. I’m a romantic.
I only had one drink. The problem was, my vodka glass could hold one gallon. I thought I was in love, but I was really intoxicated.
Even though my voice is invisible, my words aren’t dead and ghostlike. My “I love you” is alive and well.
My flashlight’s not working. I don’t know if the batteries are dead, but my mother-in-law sure as hell isn’t. When she dies, my love can live.
He lies on the couch all day watching television. I admire his classic American ambition. He’s probably a better lover than me.
Love is a skeleton wrapped in a bacon blanket. It’s sizzling and hot and tasty and I’d love to have some right now with a large cup of coffee.
I’m a murderer. I killed the conversation. She said she loved me, and I said, “If you love me, wait until you meet my clone!
I made a Lindsey Sandwich out of two Jennifers and a Jessica. Then I ate it like I make love—alone, in the corner, with a box of tissues and lots of tears.
I have the dance moves of a mustache, and a singing voice that sounds like a beard on the inside of my cheeks. Carry my love like karaoke in your pocket.
I’m divorced, so I know what it takes to make a marriage work. My love is like an empty box of desert. Just add water.
I wore a long white dress shirt and no pants, so it looked like a white dress. I felt like a bride in love. Well, at least until my boss fired me.
My gas tank is empty, and my stomach is empty, but my heart if full—of love. However, per gallon, I think I paid too much.
I believe in love at first sight, if both people are blind at the time they become smitten with each other.
I enjoy the sounds of morning. My favorite is the shush of orgasm. If you tell me you love me, I might tell you the time.
He asked me an important question, so I said nothing, but silently reached for a piece of paper and scribbled down the words: Peacocks love peach cobbler.
I accidentally sealed the box shut with my penis still inside, not realizing I may need to use it later. Being in love can be so distracting.
Love is like a cloud in a lake. It’s reflective and makes it feel like you are flying, when you are really either swimming or trying not to drown.
It's amazing how fast science took off when I took off my pants. Come back! I need that microscope to make love.
Love is like how I looked at tomorrow yesterday. That was then, that was now, this is now, but this isn’t then. It’s all so confusing that I just want tomorrow to hurry up and be yesterday already.
We got into an argument over the color of love. I said it was pink, and he said it was red. So you see, I had no other choice but to stab him.
I think you’ll find that in the long run, marathons are more of a sprint. So it is with my love, and no matter how many times you flush, the water level remains constant.
