You can share in my joy, but I don’t want to share my misery. No, I want to give away my misery. Go ahead, take it all.
I am the bow of love. I’m also the bow of hate. Same spelling, different pronunciations and meanings. Would you like me to gift wrap my greeting?
I want to bring as much love into the world as I can. Where am I bringing it from? I’m going to bring it up from hell.
Two similar words might lead to two similar ideas. They might also lead to the basement, which I recently converted into a dungeon/torture chamber.
I’d race my motorcycle across the ocean just to avoid swimming in the desert. Ladies, I hope this indicates what kind of lover I’d make.
If my name were Theodore Tiffany, my goal in life would be to meet and marry a woman named Tiffany Theodore. I adore that idea.
I want to meddle with an Olympic medal made of silver metal. I want to alchemize it into gold, and use a mixture of science and mysticism to transform losing into winning.
Doors open up for you when you work hard. Doors also open up for you when you walk with a limp and act gimpy.
If I get on the elevator on the ground floor, the building has no basement, and someone says, Going up? I like to give them that blank road kill dead in the eyes look.
I’ve learned to not let rejection bother me. How can it bother me, when all the people who’ve rejected me have been murdered, and their bodies smartly disposed of?
Our romance lasted a few months. I was so deflated the day I lost my air pump and couldn’t blow love into her life-sized body.
I am patriotic. When the Pledge of Allegiance is going on, I solemnly place my right hand over my genitals.
I’m too horny tonight to be productive. Right now the only thing I could make is love. And then I wouldn’t be productive, I’d be reproductive.
With sex, I’d recommend practicing a lot. But remember, have fun with it. After all, you do want to get your money’s worth.
Don’t be selfish and keep your thoughts locked in the cage called your skull. Free your mind, release your thoughts into the world, and free yourself in the process.
Obese people have really begun to eat up a lot of my free time. That’s the skinny on my life.
If I were stranded on a desert island, and could have only one person and three things with me, I’d want Nietzsche, a pen, paper, and a stick-on mustache.
Don’t tell me to write your story. Write your own story. If you won’t write it down, it probably isn’t worth writing down—or reading.
Why is it that with women, some kink, some vulnerability of the sex, is always presumed to lie at the heart of things- as if they have no other life, no relevance as important as that which they have for us men?
I have been capable of some mischief in the past. I know what rebellion feels like. Everyone and everything is provided with a destiny, but there is no obligation whatsoever to fulfill it. Some just prefer to ignore the humming of their soul.
In the long second before everyone absorbs what just happened, I see the angel rolling his eyes heavenward, like a teenager in the presence of overwhelming lameness. Some people just have no sense of gratitude.
