There was fried chicken in the litter box, so I helped myself and took a shit. I am a cat lover and a fan of KFC. I always take mine to go.
Maybe I could hear better if my ears weren’t flipped inside out. Unlike a cat’s ears, you can’t tell mine are flipped over. But they must be, because I only seem to listen to myself.
Love reminds me of when I was six and had a pet goldfish named “Silverbird” that I carried around the house, petting it like a cat. Needless to say it died. So I ate it.
I wear my love like a sweater made out of kitten licks. Weezer wrote about my love with their song, “The Sweater Song.” Cats find that song very cleansing.
If green carpet grew on trees instead of leaves, I’d pick off a few cats—with my rifle.
Some things change, and some things stay the same. The things that change are the things that I wish stayed the same, and the things that stay the same are the things I wish changed.
If I were a robot, and I got cheated on with a vacuum cleaner, I’d question my cleanliness. I’d also wonder if dating a beautiful yellow bulldozer was wise. Is my bulldozer nothing but a gold digger?
Every new thought of mine is like my child. And as soon as it is conceived, I must abandon it. I might return to dote on it later, or I might try to strangle it or drown it with logic.
Control your temper, or it will control you. Sometimes even remotely, like a toy car. Christmas is coming up, and for only $44.44 I’ll sell you a gift that would be perfect for the child in your life.
In the future, it’ll be my child, but it will be my child’s life, so I must name it not for me, but for it. I like how that sounds. I think I’ll call it “It.” Boy or girl, It is perfect.
I never scoff at coffins, because they’re like coffee cups you can bathe in. Well, coffins are like Starbucks’ coffee cups, only they have more life inside.
Like my grandpa, who dropped out of school to farm, I have a 4th grade education. Of course, I have a college degree, too. Both require the same reading level.
In the future, I’ll be furniture. Step on me now or sit on me later, but either way let me know how I can make you feel comfortable.
If body language is 90% of a conversation, then obviously what’s being said is only half as important as what’s not being said. And what are you saying? I can’t hear you when my back is turned.
When I smile, not only do my ears rise, but so does my listening ability. When my mouth goes all Helen Keller, you know I heard you.
Language is the proper way to communicate, followed closely by five balled up fingers forming a fist and flying at a face. Violence is never the answer—unless the question is: What the fuck are you going to do about it?
I hear what you say in what you don’t say, you see, because I’m a Helen Keller kind of communicator. Love is just as visible as invisible.
People say I can handle pressure, but there is one sporting competition where if I were in the finals, I’d surely choke, and that’s the hotdog eating competition.
In golf, you don’t beat the other golfers—you beat your self-doubt. That’s why I don’t play, because I can’t beat anyone—not even myself.
When I win, it’s because I’m skilled. When I lose, it’s because my opponent is lucky. But when I fall in love, it’s because I’m lucky and she’s skilled.
Winning the lottery is all skill, and that’s why I don’t play—because it would be unfair to all the other competitors. I’m like that as a lover too, always thinking about the other competitors.
