I’m winning over fans every day. They’re not my fans, but at least they’re losing and I’m winning.

The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his urethra. If you hurry, you can make it to mine in under 15 dollars. I mean minutes.

Most of the time, I feel like Phelps. At least when I’m not winning Olympic gold medals, which is an all the time thing for me.

I used to live with someone of the opposite sex. It’s called a sister, and I don’t have one.

They say you fear what you don’t understand. Maybe that’s why every time I’m in South Florida, and I hear someone talking in Spanish, I always shit my pants.

A brick could be used to sell a blanket, in a buy one get one free situation. It doesn’t matter if it’s rubble, if it’s free people want it.

My mother-in-law scared the hell out of me. But it’s cool, because the stench of Satan reminds me of her anyways. Hungry? Deviled eggs anyone?

Nothing in this world feels quite like freedom, except for freedom. And nothing in the world tastes quite like freedom, except for fried bald eagles.

A brick could be used to stop the tears. The inside of my jeans’ pockets look suspiciously like handkerchiefs. Here, let me take off my pants so you can blow your nose.

A band should be more famous than an individual, because all else being equal, the band has more mothers and fathers to lend support.

And then he said the next time he sees me the gloves are coming off. I said, “Doc, that‘s no way to perform a prostrate exam.

A blanket could be used to sell ice cream to streakers. Well, it could, if those naked runners didn’t leave their wallets in their pants.

I possess an object that reminds me of your stepdad’s bowel movements. It’s brown and squishy and smells like yesterday.

My words and my ideas are my property, and I’ll keep and protect them as surely as I do my stable of unicorns.

A blanket could be used to barter with. I could trade my blanket for your sex, and everybody’s happy but the tax collector.

I want to have negative three kids. Or three negative kids.

I’m so excited. I just bought a new file cabinet, some manila folders, some sticky note pads, and a few highlighters, and I think I’m finally ready to enter into organized crime.

A blanket could be used to alert your guest when he’s overstayed his welcome. But what’s even more effective would be a flying brick at his forehead. Subtlety can be a bit soft, and can...

I had an out-of-body experience so strange that it felt normal. You see, my soul, or essence, had left my body and went and inhabited the body of my clone. So I wasn’t in my...

You’re disoriented. You just woke up. You’re in the future. You’ve been asleep for eight hours.

A brick could be used as an AFD, or Atmospheric Floating Device, whose sole function is to make people ask WTF?

How to get money: earn it, steal it, borrow it, beg for it, or inherit it. So, who do I have to kill to get rich?

If you work in a hospital, you can’t easily fake call in sick to work. Oh, you’re sick? Well why don’t you come in to work and we’ll have a look at it.

A brick could be used to block a mouse hole. But something better that would not only block the hole physically, but also psychologically, would be to stuff a dead rat in the hole.

My wallet was empty after the charity auction. Of course, my wallet was empty before the auction too. I donated my time and money to strippers.

Love is the most pleasurable pain imaginable, and I have experienced more pain-pleasure than a German twin experiencing schadenfreude at the expense of his brother.

Most people assume because my name is Jarod that I was born Martha proof. But I’m not Martha proof—I’m merely Martha resistant up to 100 meters.

I refer to myself as he, the third person, because the first two people are out on a date. They probably expect me to pick up their tab.

According to research from punchaguywithglasses.com, homeless people are making as much money as most recent college graduates.

A brick could be used to crush grapes. If that sounds unnecessarily cruel, then I guess you wouldn’t like to pour you a glass of wine. It’s a shame, because I made it myself.

There’s a hurricane coming to Florida, and there will be high winds. I should probably turn off my ceiling fans, to try to mitigate the billions of dollars in damages the storm will incur.

I’d like to sit around a campfire with a couple of cowboys and argue over who’s going to turn on the stove.

My white duvet is like an avalanche of blanket.

I knew we were destined to be lovers from the moment she tied me up and stuffed me in the trunk of her car.

I drink wine like beer, only twice as much less.

A brick could be used to wash your hands. And after that, I’d suggest you wash out your filthy mouth. Scrub it clean, you scatological talker you.

I often confuse fog and mist. But one is not the other any more than either are either. Let this be a lesson in love.

Politicians, it’s like they’re competing to be the most incompetent. Well, guess what? They’re all winners to me. And by winners I mean losers.

A brick could be used as a scapegoat. But don’t blame the brick. The brick didn’t kill my mother-in-law. It was merely the instrument I utilized in showing her how much I loved her.

I’d lick the water out of your bathtub, just to prove I love you—and that I’m not a cat.

When I’m 42, I’ll have 21 years of experience being 21. I’ll be doubly prepared to handle myself in a bar, most likely by avoiding them altogether.

A brick could be pet, like a dog, and taught to shit in my neighbor’s yard.

If life has taught me anything, it’s that no matter what you should do, you should love. Even if you’re in the process of murdering someone, possibly a politician, your heart should be filled with...

For the longest time I thought I was blind, until I realized my eyelids were just shut. So I unzipped my pants and got on with my life. After I quit the Helen Keller Society,...

The scent of your asshole smells like childhood memories. I mean it would, if I grew up in New Jersey.

Vanessa Sky Ellis scours the streets of NYC looking for celebrities to take selfies with, while I scrounge up quarters to try to buy love out of vending machines. I have had sex with more...

meatloaf” you’ll be serving them.

I’m not gentlemanly. When I’m gentle, I’m not manly, and when I’m manly, I’m not gentle.

Her mouth contorted, and the wrinkles around her lips were like the dunes of a frosted cupcake. And I just wanted to lick her living word machine (mouth).

Twitter: Up to the minute details that are minute. I’d like to update and reaffirm my love for you every sixty seconds.