How many birthdays can you fit in your lifetime? If you answered "All of them," you should have your genitals ripped out from underneath your father's pillowcase.
I am different, just like everyone else. And as such, I celebrate by being the same. The world won’t see a truly unique person until the first human clone arrives.
I’m about to cross a time zone, and I feel younger already. If I keep traveling west, maybe I can catch up to the love of my youth.
If you were to ask me the best time of day to fall in love, I'd say, "Now." But you'd also have to remember to factor in the fact that my watch is eleven minutes fast.
Despite marking the spot, Generation X has no treasure. How could they, when I dug it up first?
I’m too busy to chew. That’s why I blend all my meals into smoothies, and I make love as slowly as ice cream melts in the Sahara.
I mopped up my moped off the street, and drove home on the unicycle below my handlebar mustache, while I thought about the path love might take now.
I saw a white toilet, with no plumbing, alone in a field of snow. Well, almost alone. There were two naked albinos and a polar bear sitting on it, and I felt inspired to write a love poem.
She said she loved me, and I didn’t believe it for a minute. Maybe 59 seconds, but not a whole minute. I may be gullible, but I’m not without an accurate way to measure time.
She doesn’t want me to leave, and she doesn’t want me to stay. That’s a double helping of Doesn’t Want Me, and one big I’m Not Hungry back at her.
To let her imagine how great a lover I’d be, I ate soup with chopsticks. She went home with another man, but I’ll bet she fantasized about me.
You will know my power when you feel me compress you into a ball and bowl with you. I make love like I just rented these fabulous shoes.
I’ll sit on a soda and drink a sofa. It’s just healthier. You should see how I make love. Show starts at 8:00. Tickets are ten bucks at the window.
My love is heavy with ink, so I took it and transformed it into a poem for you. I would give it to you, but Grandma took it because I left it on the counter, and she mistook it for the grocery list.
I’m late to dinner, but I’m early to being in love. I’m such a gentleman that I hold every door open—even if the guy sitting in the bathroom stall is protesting.
If I were in a band, people at my shows would fight for tickets—that’s how much I believe in love. I’d call my band “The Black-eyed Peasants.
I got you a box full of unfull. I know I shouldn’t have, but that’s why I should have. As a lover, I always leave you hungry for more.
My love is a cloud sound, silent as an orange flamingo. Too many swimmers have drowned while trying to fly, and there should be a law against making a law against that.
I don’t like like like I love love, but I’ll bet we have that in common. You have so much love to give that I’m surprised I haven’t received any of it.
The human voice isn’t like water,” I shouted. “You can’t drown out somebody just by raising the level.” But it was useless. I felt like Noah preaching to a pack of Helen Kellers.
Love is a lot like bowling, I thought as I drove by a boarded up and abandoned bowling alley. Like the economy, I’ve made a full recovery since we broke up.
