With 87 other Elvis impersonators, I’m going to take over the world. Starting with Vegas. We will gyrate our hips out of love, and to end world hunger.
1-12, how many Decembers does it take to sell thirteen to Mr. Fourteen and Mr. Months? Depends on how much love you throw in for free.
They should make suitcases shaped like human bodies, for discretely transporting dead cadavers. And I should get a friends and family discount.
Myth, mist, and mystery all add to the illusion of love. If you need me I’ll be by the fog machine wearing a tunic and writing an epic poem in Greek.
Life goal: Swim in a lake full of soup, and instead of bathing suits we’ll wear Ziploc bags while we make love like we’re feeding the homeless.
To save the environment—and my childhood memories, I merged a gas station pump with a jukebox. Look, my car now runs on 80s music!
Both of the items were used in an attempted murder, but hers was a dagger, and mine was a baby’s rubber bottle nipple. That was the last time I took a stab at love.
Do you want some fresh tomato soup to go? I’ll put it in a mesh strainer. Oh, if only love were as easy to contain as soup in a strainer.
Toothpaste Tuesday—bring in your favorite toothpaste-covered t-shirt and win free condoms. Remember to smile, because life goes on.
I am your Wednesday Sex Meatloaf. At least, I’d like to be. This Tuesday I have a vacancy, if you like leftovers from six days before.
A pancake would make as good of a wheel as I’d make a lover. I would invite you to have a seat on my unicycle, but it’s sticky from maple syrup.
In my pants is where you need to look to find out everything you want to know about love. I got the magic formula from your grandma.
I am an elevator in a one-story building. I am ascending. But my love for you is still on the ground floor, waiting for you to push the button.
I put the all in allow. Well, I put in most. All the rest I forbid! If it pleases you, dinner will be ready as soon as you make it.
Will you be my formal yawn formation at dawn? One rocking chair nailed to the floor does not make a relationship, if you know what I mean.
If mannequins had mustaches, I feel there’d be more love in the world. I’ve recently started growing my own vegetables and clothes.
My advice for a healthy life: love, laugh, and pee in the shower. High school class reunions would be better if divided by gender and held in the locker rooms.
You used to love me. Let me help jog your memory by buying you some running shoes. The shoes will be wooden, and nailed to the floor.
I haven’t shaved in days. There are literally thousands of peaches waiting for me. I’ve been so busy loving that I haven’t been able to assist the Official Barber of Georgia.
The ocean in the sky keeps my love fresh like boat shoes that are too big to fail. My heart is flooded with feelings like Noah one knows.
I am the ghost in the empty jar. My silence belongs in the cemetery, just like all my ex girlfriends. Long live love!
