I want a coffee machine that runs on gasoline and drives me to work. We can make love in the backseat, next to the cream and sugar.
Every time we made love, one of us cried. Mostly it was me, out of joy, but occasionally it was her, out of despair.
Our time together was a blur—not because I was drunk, which I was, but because our love was like the beating of a hummingbird’s wings.
My ashtray is full, the carton of cigarettes is empty, and I just cremated grandpa. But I never inhaled—or told him I loved him.
As an aspiring fashion designer, and lover of human anatomy, I always wonder why nipples don’t appear on the outside of shirts.
The fire burnt down our House of Love. Our relationship didn’t work because I was the water, and she was the empty hose.
Just because your plate is empty, doesn’t mean your stomach is full. Same with love. Where’s the Romance Buffet?
I love microwave dinners. I also like eating other appliances, like fridges and dishwashers.
My love is divided into three parts. I’ll give you part one and two for free, but for the fourth installation, you’ll have to pay for it.
In the future, man will travel on flying carpets, and shoes that float on water. And we’ll all make love together, as one, as one might masturbate today.
When I didn’t see a ghost, I knew I’d seen a ghost, because ghosts are invisible. This logic also lets me know when I’m in love.
A fly with an elephant on its back would give the illusion of a flying elephant, if that fly were powered by my love for you.
Real life is only ever just real life. Messy. What it means depends on how you look at it. The only thing you’ve got to do is find a way to live there.
I make love like others make money. You’ve got to spend money to make money, right? If not, then why am I paying for sex?
I love Ocala. I also love anal sex with midgets. I mean I would, if I were an averagely perverted politician.
Everything you swallow will kill you, some faster than others. Swallow your pride, and you’ll love a long time.
Love is like a rain cloud under the dome of an umbrella. But I’m cool with that, because that’s what I call a portable shower.
Welcome to Dinnerville, where it's always breakfast. When love is in the air, you can tell it’s about to rain.
I am the WhoBob, but NOT the WHoBob Machine. That would be Dale Elad, who’s also the lead singer of Palindrome Lover.
Love between two people is sacred, and also secret—and shouldn’t be shared with a third person. But come on, you can trust me.
We made love like two cars that were out of gas. I tried to fill her up, but couldn’t because I myself was empty.
