I found her love in the dumpster. Well, if he threw it away, I see no reason why I can’t keep it. I’m so into her you’d think I was homeless.
His name was Chase, so to make things interesting, I gave him a bit of a head start. Sort of like I do when pursuing a woman that I love.
I want to assure you, I’m not that kind of pervert. But don’t worry, goat lady, there’s somebody for everybody. Or anybody for nobody. Maybe I have that backwards, and upside down.
If I could change one thing about myself, I’d pick a new nose, because I’m tired of picking this one. Oh, and I’d stop treating people as if they’re flickable.
I’d rather fall in molten lava than fall in love. But I suppose that’s just the romantic me.
My ex girlfriend would say I am a bit of a romantic. Well, actually, she'd say I bit a romantic. I bit her on the bum.
Her bag is full of green apples, except for one red one. I gave her the red one, as if to say, “Stop!” Don’t stop loving me—stop and love me.
If I had a vulva, I’d let you drive it like a Volvo. It’s all about safety. You could probably park on the street, but you might get a ticket.
I’m a door-to-door salesman. I sell doors. If I can’t knock on yours, because you don’t have a door to knock on, I know you’ll be interested in what I’m selling.
If you replace the letter "s" with the letter "x," you can make a lot of plural words naughty. For example, "fences" would become "fencex," and I'd say good fencex makes good neighbors.
I make love like a half an hour minus 27 minutes. If you’re as bad in bed as I am in math, that’s roughly four minutes. And I do mean rough.
For men, money, like sex, is something that nearly everybody wants more of, and unless you are famous or influential, you probably have to work hard to get any.
Shaving a sheep is considered foreplay in some countries. But I don’t consider foreplay at all, not even before sex.
Sometimes my thoughts are too slimy for my brain, and they come shooting out of my penis. They are life-changing thoughts, so I’d recommend taking them deep inside of you.
The word "sex" has no sex. It is androgynous and probably asexual. And even though I have sex (my sex is male), I have no sex, despite knowing willing females.
Through the fog Orafoura said, “Those people are black.” “I know,” I said, “they’ll match the lemonade.” I make love like an Arnold Palmer, but not like Arnold Palmer.
I don’t like sleeping, but I do like watching the inside of my eyelids. That’s how I drive, and that’s how I make love. Honk when you’re finished.
I don’t trust mutes. By their silence, I wonder what they’re hiding. The lost Templar treasure, mysteries of the universe, my love for you—who knows what they could have hidden away.
I invented an invisible machine to help you get to sleep. It only works after your eyes stay shut for a length of time. It’s also so quiet that you won’t hear it.
I have just been elected Captain of the Nap Squad. It's a very exhausting position, and requires training twice a day, once when I get up and once before bed.
I’d sip your tears with a straw while you sleep, because I’m thirsty for your love. And the more I’d drink, the thirstier I’d become. Your love is oceanic.
