I found a body today. It was mine, so I played with it.

Poor people are the salt of the earth. They should be sprinkled on icy roads, along with pretzels.

Dear cat, your ears are flipped inside out, so I know you’re not listening to a word I’m not saying.

This is my building—and my office has the best possible view.”

America is not a place, America is an idea—an idea that died along with my grandpa. And I’m sad to say I shot them both.

Love is nebulous, like my idea of what the word nebulous even means.

Pound-for-pound, I’m the best non-fighter in the world. I could kick Gandhi’s ass.

I’d rather fake my own fog, than fake a steamy love scene. Can I interest you in some mist? It’s homemade.

We should kill the future, so the present has no choice but to retreat into the past.

If I had a clone, he’d better be my equal, and not my better. Can you imagine how I’d feel being jealous of myself?

A country bumpkin doesn’t know bupkis about a kiss. I know, because I don’t even know what bupkis means.

My impression of love: I found her—lucky me. I found her—unlucky her. She’d probably agree with me, which would be a first.

I’d like to build a boat out of those little wooden planks that Starbucks provides to stir your coffee. The boat will be dedicated to our love, and it will take a lifetime to complete.

I collect human skin. I keep it all on the bumper of my car.

I water my driveway, and I drive a hard bargain to work (it gets great gas mileage).

She’s the kind of woman where if you give her an inch, she’ll take the whole penis. She took all I had, and she didn’t even take me out to coffee.

The only people who don’t need elevator pitches are elevator salesmen. I once tried to sell an elevator to a man who owned a one-story building. He didn’t buy from me, but he did sell...

Reverse psychology, I do it in front of the mirror.

Love is a skeleton wrapped in a bacon blanket. It’s sizzling and hot and tasty and I’d love to have some right now with a large cup of coffee.

My asshole smells like burnt firewood, and I’ve got firemen calling me. But I won’t answer, because my answer is no, they can’t take me out on a date.

Today I am in love. Today is Tuesday, although the day of the week has no influence or impact on the fact that I’m in love. It could be Monday and I’d still be in...

I drink coffee the way most men tie their shoes, and I’m liable to slip on a sip if I don’t follow their lead.

I booked a table for two at a five-star restaurant. Rebecca couldn’t make it, because at the last minute I backed out of asking her.

I believe I believe I can succeed, and this belief is the foundation for my belief.

I make love like uh huh. Huh? Uh huh. I also make coffee, though you have to pay for that.

The only other man I’d let see my wife’s naked body is the butcher.

Love is a cat wearing a fur coat in a sauna in the middle of the Sahara Desert at noon. Trust me, I speak from personal experience.

If you have Microsoft Word, you can become a writer tonight. Just start typing!

She looks so serious. Why such a stern look? Oh yeah, somebody’s just been murdered. With all my diabolical laughter, I seem to have forgotten about that.

I’d give up three days just to get three hours with the woman I love. Of course this instinct is the reason why my investment decisions always look so great—for the people on the other...

I want to write an unreliable narrator. In fact, he’ll be so unreliable that I’m not even sure he’ll show up to narrate.

Incredibly, he wore an incredulous look on his face like he had no idea what she was insinuating. Did she just accuse him of murder? I hope she did, because I have no alibi, but...

It’s sad to see a restaurant go out of business because the owner died, after being cannibalized by hungry customers.

I’ll steal bodies, not to be Corporal Corpse, but to have access to a never-ending supply of laughter still left over in their lungs.

The morning always has a way of creeping up on me and peeking in my bedroom windows. The sunrise is such a pervert.

I’m stronger than a pack of crackers and a pack of midgets, but not the PAC 12. PAC 11, maybe, but not 12.

I wish I had eyes that changed colors from blue to gray, and then after I cried, to all the colors of the rainbow, because then I’d just sit in front of the mirror writing...

The good, the bad, and the ugly basically sums up my sex life. Except that I’ve never had the good.

Candy is full of taste. But so is shit, because taste is full of smell.

If I knew everything, life would be lonely, as everyone else would want to explore the world, and I’d be content with a cat on my lap sitting in the dark.

I have a list of pet names for Cap’n so long that it could fill a phone book (if the phone book is for a town with a population of four). I call him Cap’n...

Forget food for thought. Give me food for my belly.

Love is something to be treated with awe. Or should it be aww? People don’t know my capacity for love. If you tried to bottle it up, I’m sure it would take at least three...

I want a 100% kind of relationship, and I’m willing to give it 50%.

She asked for soup, and I served her cereal. Our love was in the breakfast stage.

Catholic, Episcopalian, I won’t have sects with you.

Blood may be thicker than water, but it’s certainly not as thick as ketchup. Nor does it go as well with French fries.

I love food that carries food. Run, waiter, before I eat you too.

I had a dream about you. The flowers were blooming, but our love was wilting. I tried to water our relationship, but no matter what I did, you were insistent on leaving me for a...

The chair walked in the room like any four-legged creature would, and I sat on it like a cat.