I wash my hair with strawberry jelly, because my favorite thing to eat for breakfast is lunch. It’s never too late to love someone, but sometimes it is too early.
Lover’s Lane is so narrow only unicycles can travel down it. My high school teachers didn’t call me “The Babe Ruth of the Bicycle” for nothing. It’s too bad they didn’t call me that, because it was accurate.
I could see that she was eager to please and impress me, and I was excited to see someone so excited to try to excite me. In all the excitement I forgot where I was, who I was, and why I was trying to kill her.
Do they make chin straps with knives attached? If they do, I need one. You can never have too much safety—especially when falling in love today requires wearing a helmet.
I conceal myself behind cynicism because it’s safe. Camouflage is more protective than body armor. Why do you think the Department of Defense contacted me to design a gun that shoots insults?
I just invented a new light that shuts off automatically when an ugly person walks in the room. Guaranteed to help them get laid. Darkness is the great equalizer. Blind and Deaf Magazine called my product, “Helen Kelleresque.
I am not into nudity on camera, but I would love to wear a banana peel over my penis and eat cat food from a little saucer while you snap off a few pictures of me.
Due to its late nature, tomorrow morning will start after tonight. People say early morning, but it’s later than late at night, so I say it’s entirely too decadent for me to be a part of.
A good server knows how to be seen, yet remain invisible. I was a great server, and I achieved invisibility by never showing up for work. My boss ended up firing me, probably over petty jealousy.
The very thing keeping me alive is also killing me—love. No wonder the rose symbolizes both love and death. They should have a deal where if you buy a dozen roses you get a free headstone.
I don’t like breakfast—I prefer fixslow. I eat it like I devour your love, and it may take time, but we can put our relationship back together. Just pass me the maple syrup.
I prefer kissing over dinner. Not that I prefer kissing to dinner, but I prefer kissing over the plate containing my dinner, especially if my dinner consists of something romantic like monkey brains.
Cats are meowable gloves you don’t wear, you pet to keep your hands warm. But I keep my hands warm the old-fashioned way—by applauding all the political rhetoric coming out of Washington DC.
I sympathize with a mother who has three mouths to feed—especially if two of those mouths are on her face. With a woman like that I’d listen twice as hard for doublespeak. I’m pretty accustomed to picking up on political rhetoric.
If my clone were standing next to me, I’d be beside myself with joy. I’d also be literally beside myself. In that case, I’ll bet you’d love me twice as much, huh?
When I was young, I was 13 going on 31. Then when I was 30 going on 31, I was 30 going on 29. Now I’m in love and I’ve lost all sense of time—and all the rest of my sense.
Quicksand is nature’s way of saying slow down. Me pushing you in quicksand is my way of saying be still and let me love you. Isn’t it funny how a lasso looks like a noose?
Everywhere I go, I bring Bring, and a feeling of redundancy. I love you because I love you—and because I love you. What more do you want?
This morning, as I was driving to work, I mistook a big brown box on the side of the road for a deer. It was dark, and I swerved at the last second, and even though it wasn’t a deer, I still managed to nail that son of a bitch.
I don’t want to ever see her again, because I want to always remember her as she was—young and beautiful. She won't remember, because she was 88 when we met and suffering from dementia.
I thought you were her because she wasn’t here yesterday and neither were you. What would I do without you? Probably the same thing I didn’t do yesterday—nothing.
