We made love like a goat has four legs like a table. Cheese doesn’t just make itself by standing around all day drinking coffee, you know.
I gave her all the love I had to give—which wasn’t 100%, but rather 10%. The other 90% either evaporated or got stolen in the name of war reparations.
If love were a dolphin with wings and a unicorn’s horn, being ridden by a blind leprechaun dressed like Rasputin, would you believe in second chances for love at first sight?
I’m not a hillbilly—I’m a hillwilliam. Or, rather, a William Hill. That was my name at the last networking conference, when I stole a nametag to make friends without fear of insulting them with lasting consequences.
My Love Machine is tough. It’s built like a tank. At night I’m romantic and so Sun Tzu I’m Moon Tzu. Come, let me make you howl.
For dessert I ate a desert. It was sandy, and so was the name of the woman I ate dinner with. She had a dry sense of humor, and that is why I wore a raincoat.
Left-handed and eyes closed, it’s how I masturbate—while driving at night. If you want to know how I make love, you’re going to have to pay for admission.
I wear a glove to honor all the men who have given me a hand. And to think, out of all those men, they only had one hand. No wonder I never get any high-fives.
My kitchen sink has no truck attached. My love needs a waterproof suitcase in these Days of Desert and Dessert. Who are you going to come running to when the Ice Cream Man melts?
I’ve aged more this past week than I did in all six days that preceded it. Will you still love me tomorrow, when I’m an older man?
I am an uncle, though this is not a new feeling for me, as I’ve been one before. I’ve also been 2 through 32, and I turn 33 in March.
Women always want to look younger, and I always want to look older, so I could look like Pliny the Younger. As a lover, that would give me the best of both worlds.
The woman I love rolled through town yesterday, and she didn’t even stop her wheelchair once as she passed through. I got so angry I had to walk it off.
People are so particular. Unlike animals, which can be lions, eagles, or sharks, people are only people. (Though some people can easily be mistaken for animals—namely politicians.)
My girlfriend bought me a collared shirt for my birthday, mainly so I don’t get too far ahead of her when she takes me for a walk.
As an animal lover, I don’t like zoos. I feel the only creatures that should be caged behind bars are politicians, lobbyists, and lawyers. And rapists, but I’ve already listed that three times.
I traded in my car with no gas in the tank and my new car came with a full tank. So I at least profited there. That makes me appreciate my depreciation more.
We’re different, you and I. I am a Rorschach Test, and you, you are a butterfly. No, wait, you are a bat. Actually, you are the Galapagos Islands. Or perhaps you are a failed Pollack painting.
If I asked people how many people there are in the world, I’ll bet more than half would reply, “More than half.” True, but would they also know Georgia is a state, a country, and a painter?
I made art out of all the phone numbers on napkins I’ve had over the years. So it was just one napkin, and I wiped my mouth with it after I was done.
If I could capture the rays of the sun in a can, I'd paint a canvas with it and have you look at my work until the memory of my work was burned in your mind and your retinas burned out.
