I can’t remember if I’ve time traveled, because memory only covers the past, and it’s likely I’ve only been to the future. But that’s natural, because that’s where I store all my love.

There may be a sucker born every minute, but every 30 seconds a lollipop pops out.

I am my own love story. And I want to tell my love story, from the inside. Just add water and stir.

A brick could be used to enhance your sex life. So what are you waiting for? Get that gerbil out of your pants

At the age of four, I wanted to be eight. At the age of eight, I wanted to be 16. At the age of 16, when I started driving, I wanted to be a Ferrari....

Yeah” while the guy peeing next to you is talking, try a more positive affirmation, like pinching his butt cheek.

I applied for your love like a recent MBA grad might apply at Walmart today. I grew a beard on my chest and laughed through my ass just to get your attention.

A blanket could be used in a secretive manner. What? I can’t just tell you how it could be used. What part of secretive don’t you understand?

I listen to helloes at 65 MPH. Anything faster is just asking for a goodbye. I’m too love and in young to do anything but drink coffee out of a helmet, while wearing a helmet....

A brick could be used to gauge the level of reciprocated sexual interest of the person or object of your desire. A brick works best, however, when the focus of your lust is the brick...

To me love is like a cup of soapy dishwater. Sure, I’ll drink it, but I won’t swish it around in my mouth while you try to stuff filthy silverware down my throat.

A brick could be used to describe somebody hard and inflexible, and a blanket could be used to describe somebody warm and easygoing.

I want to write a book called, “Ten Steps to Asexuality.” Of course, I recommend all those steps be taken in Birkenstock sandals.

The great thing about being a government is you can wage nonsensical wars, and people will line up to give their lives in exchange for small paychecks and being called patriots.

You’re already older than the last time I saw you, and I just saw you right before I blinked.

I know how to tell a woman I love her in seventeen syllables or less. I’m not talking about a haiku, I’m talking about grunts from an orgasm.

Scoop out my soul with a spoon like it’s a cantaloupe, and I’ll tell you that love is breakfast. And I’d love to make breakfast to Agatha one more time.

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.

He was a man I came to respect. Not because he wore Ziploc bags for socks (he had sweaty feet), but because he also kept his sandwiches warming there while he walked.

Who wants to be the unsung heroes of my voiceless choir quartet? We’re the Helen Kellers, and I’m holding auditions with oven mitts, because they’re sure to be hot.

Love is a bird’s nest of emotion that I used as a basket to store picnic items like apples, cheese, wine, and finger foods like thumbs and pinkies.

I eat footballs, and I shit touchdowns. And I always wear a helmet when I make love.

Chivalry, stimulating conversations, everything is said to be a lost art nowadays. But nothing is a lost art, unless it’s a sunken statue—in a river of lava.

I’ve wrestled an alligator before. It wasn’t alive, but I still pinned it down. I was trying to impress a woman, and I bet I did, because she went home with another man—but she was...

My boxers should require batteries, because I’m such an exceptional lover that pizza delivery people call me for carry out. 30 minutes or less—as if!

Is something art just because a museum hangs it on their wall? Are you networking just because you’re standing in a crowded room?

Mannequin Love.

We have a love so pure that it makes snow seem yellow. (Don’t eat it!)

In my dream I was a seal, and I made love to a seagull. Then I got eaten by a shark, because that’s just the way life is. Some fish gets jealous over a bird,...

Pele popularized the bicycle kick, and I created the unicycle kick. It’s like the bicycle kick, only it requires more balance and one less wheel.

He’s going to give me a piggyback ride home. He’s my designated walker.

I had a dream about you. You winked at me and said the meat’s fresh, and I didn’t know which meat you were referring to. So I zipped up my pants and left the Men’s...

The salesman said the sale was happening because all the gizmos in the store had to be liquidated. It was a lot of solidfluid, and I would have bought something, but the only thing I...

The mascot for the New York Mets should be a handshake. But first, let me wash my hands.

No, I’m digging a grave for you.” It was at this point that I unsheathed Chuck Norris’ right arm and sliced you with a karate chop.

I turned on my faucet, and out slithered a clear garden snake. It was too cold to shave with, so I grew out a beard and patch of broccoli. Sometimes my love is liquid, and...

I want to name my son Justin Case. You know, just in case.

I had a dream about you. I had an erection the size of your nose, though I could breathe through mine while yours was congested. The air smelled like pee to me.

If I get famous, I’d seek employment in a wax museum—as a candle. If you fire me, make sure you blow me out before singing Happy Birthday.

A Toyota is not a toy. At least not a sex toy. However, my driving is both erratic and erotic. Tickets are ten dollars per passenger. Senior citizen discounts not available.

Before bed I do a bit of light reading. I’m reading a 50-pound book on midgets.

Instead of fur, how about a pet with grass, so I could mow my pet. Unlike now, where all I do is cuddle with a piece of sod.

When you meet me, the first thing you’ll notice is I have a firm handshake. The second thing you’ll notice is that I’m wearing oven mitts. I like my introductions hot, like my iced coffee.

If you had a clone, and you weren’t wearing perfume and your clone was, I’d automatically think your clone was more attractive.

My response landed me in hot water. A dirty dish also landed in hot water. If I weren’t such a raging feminist, maybe I’d buy a dishwater instead of scrubbing them all by hand.

All the letters from A to Z couldn’t express what you mean to me. Not without cloning them and using some over and over

Flowers, fragrance, and freedom make me think of her. Love turns the opposite inside out.

Nine times out of ten I left one out. But the one I leave out is never love. I always put love in—even when I put it in your butt.

I admire your mustache madam, but I wonder, what’s for dessert?” Knowing her and knowing me, she probably thought I meant I love you.

I’m lyrically illiterate. Actually, more accurately, I can’t read music.