I saw two lizards kissing yesterday, but I scared them off. Maybe I should have taken off my bird costume before peeping on them.

Is this Jarod? This is Jarod. I’m you—from the future. I’m exactly like you—only better! By the way, congrats on your upcoming wedding! Spoiler alert: divorce

I like farm salmon. I like the idea of fish growing on trees.

New streets should be Twitter friendly and be named with hashtags up front. I’d build a house on ‪#‎LoversLane‬.

Andrew is such a diplomatic name. Or at least it is for the first three letters, as and is a word that works hard to join things together and promote cohesiveness.

Rose is For Sale.” Prostitution or a grammatically incorrect flower shop, I’d like to enter both right about now.

I don’t like customer service, because I don’t believe the customer should have to pay and help out too.

I am the Wheelbarrow of Love. Let me get back to work.

If I’m going to write a book every American will want to read, it’s got to have lots of pictures. Those pictures must also move, and all the words in the book must be spoken...

I run like I walk—only slower. And I make love like a one-man circus show.

To get him to agree, I put a gun to his head. To get him to not change his mind, I blew out his brains.

A writer should be a recluse. Why share words with a few friends in the moment when they can be written down in solitude and shared with everybody at any time?

The goodbad news is she only stole half. The badgood news is she stole half. And when it’s love that’s been stolen, a hole the size of half your heart feels like the whole thing...

I consume knowledge like food. I prefer learning about fruits and vegetables.

I meant to spend the day writing, but instead I spent the afternoon cleaning out my belly button. Historians will thank me one day.

Love lets us ride on its back as if it were a camel. But you’ve got to water it, or it won’t grow into a healthy rose bush.

She said she loved me, and I didn’t believe it for a minute. Maybe 59 seconds, but not a whole minute. I may be gullible, but I’m not without an accurate way to measure time.

It’s easy to see what to do once it’s already been done. The difficult time is before it’s to be done, and while you’re doing it. This is the difference between writing and editing.

No need to get sexual with me.” I’m a bring my own elevator kind of lover anyway.

Alzheimer’s is the cleverest thief, because she not only steals from you, but she steals the very thing you need to remember what’s been stolen.

I tried to raise my eyebrows in disbelief, but I forgot I’d packed away my eyebrows along with all my other winter clothing. My iced coffee was watery and warm with neglect.

I’m not waiting until my hair turns white to become patient and wise. Nope, I’m dyeing my hair tonight.

I don’t worry about GDP. Not when there are so many other combinations of letters to be concerned with.

My farts smell like coffee. Drink them up. But slowly, because they’re hot.

Loyalty is for the dogs. Count me among the cats. And count me twice—once for each of my faces.

When I feel sad, I try to think of someone else in the world who is suffering worse than me. Like someone in Seattle, who is hurting so bad financially that instead of a vente...

When a writer has deep thoughts, I expect him to also have a deep voice. And if he doesn’t, he should remain silent and let his writer’s voice do all the speaking for him.

I’ll see a cat and instinctively start petting the hair on my back.

He looks like you’d imagine him to look like, if you had no imagination.

While getting a haircut, I thought about my failed marriage. Instead of feeling bad, I thought I’d grow a beard, move to the mountains, and start over.

The last time somebody pointed out that cowboys ride horses, not tricycles, I shot him. Of course, I waited until another gunslinger gunned him down, but nevertheless, I still shot him.

Out of love I made you a cake. Also out of milk, eggs, flour, sugar, and vanilla.

A person crying is like a sponge wringing itself out. Love is better than a sink that turns itself off without you having to touch the handle.

You know cats, always scratching on this or that, but never scratching what you want when you want it. (Like my balls, when they’re itchy!) I recently got him declawed, which sucked for him, but...

I look for patterns that nobody else does. Like I noticed that my face looks like a tablecloth. Especially when I have food all over it.

It was a cold night, so I got a fire going. I lit a scented candle.

I love when my cat crushes his forehead into mine like my skull is an empty beer can. But it’s not—there’s still a sip left.

She gave me the cold shoulder, so I heated it up in the microwave. Sometimes #love is leftovers.

If somebody pushed you down a well, I’d rush over and toss you a bucket, because I’m fucking thirsty.

Happy Birthday.

My love is like leftovers, and her image is the original meal. I should have eaten it all in one sitting.

When your action is gone, and all that’s left is motionlessness, I’ll be there, whistling.

I just bought a small condo overlooking the water. The water is in a cup, one floor below my unit.

I’m clingy like clang on pots. My love is cookable.

I loved her like the sun might say to the moon, “Stop stealing my light!”

I may not be able to remember your name, but I remember your address and what time you leave in the mornings. Your name isn’t Rob, is it?

I want a moon canoe, because have you ever tried paddling through dirt? Love is a journey, and I try to travel as efficiently as I can.

I coiled my empty straw wrapper around like a snake. Then I bit it before it could bite me. My love is as dangerous as my drinking habits.

I was seen spotted with an older woman and a girl half my height in age. A leopard was also spotted.

Right on cue, I figured out the letter that comes after P.