Sexy isn’t my middle name. Lust-factory is, with the hyphen.

Love is the jelly to sunshine’s peanut butter. And if I tell you that I’m in sandwich with you, I’m not just saying it to get in your Ziploc bag.

Men will tolerate what they are used to, even if it’s intolerance. That’s why I still drink milk, even though I’m lactose intolerant. Mamma didn’t raise no bigot.

A blanket could represent change, and a brick represents consistency. Do you embrace the blanket, or the brick?

To love someone as much as you love yourself, that is the ideal. Especially if that someone is your clone.

In the future, man will travel on flying carpets, and shoes that float on water. And we’ll all make love together, as one, as one might masturbate today.

Even though I know my own name (barely), I still sometimes write my name wrong. Usually it only happens when I write in cursive and am endorsing checks for money I can’t recall earning.

Hydrogenated and androgynous milky white love is all I have to offer you. Would you like me to pour it in your coffee, or directly into your soul?

Some people work to live, and other people live to work. Then some people, like me, are both unemployed and alive (at least at the time of this writing).

I’m trying to translate what my cat says and put it in a book, but how many homonyms are there for meow?

She has a sly smile, and eyes that seem to see my essence as they explore my soul and implore my spirit to enter her. I look at her and I see love.

Last night at work, I was short people. I was two midgets and a mute.

I wear a helmet when I write, because if you’re doing it right, writing is dangerous.

In a blind taste-test, my kisses were rated as Helen Kelleresque. Women love how the only sense I keenly possess is nonsense.

My clone will have my mind, but I don’t mind. Two heads are better than one—especially when those two are one and the same.

My printer printed off blank pages. Is my printer out of ink, or do I just have nothing to say?

The cat hair floated in the air like a sound vibration, and I plucked it like a guitar string. Sometimes I can be so musical I’m like a living love song.

I’d like to see a flag made not out of stars and stripes, but rather fingers and knuckles, so that it could really wave in the wind. It would be the most welcoming flag in...

I could have thought up a lot of things, but many great people had to go and live before me. They might have stole my thunder, but I’ve got a tight hold on the lightning.

What can I say about love that’s never been said by me or anyone else? Well, sometimes love smells like my farts, after I eat a dozen roses.

Tell me there’s a God, and I’ll believe you. But tell me you’re not in love with me, and I’ll shoot you an incredulous look. Then I’ll shoot you.

You can read until you’re blue in the face, but I’d recommend writing until you’re red in the face. And ass.

I Love Jenn” jacket. Two girls, one continuous love. The I Love Jennifer is a little off-center, but then so am I. Better than being self-centered, as my clone would probably say.

There is one woman I’ve dated I just can’t seem to forget, no matter how much I drink or how many concussions I give myself.

I once said hello to a pack of goodbyes, but they were asleep to my coffee offering. They were running towards love, which is always running away from me.

I want to meet a guy named Art. I’d take him to a museum, hang him on the wall, criticize him, and leave.

I’m the sort of businessman who goes in to buy a lime, and comes out with a lemon. I’m shrewd like that. I’m the same with cars. If you ever need help buying a used...

I hope you enjoy reading my book as much as I didn’t enjoy writing it. Just kidding! I hope you don’t enjoy it at all.

Of all the things God created, from sunrises and rainbows, to black holes and humor, cats are the most fascinating to me.

I’ll give you a glass of wine, if you give me a few drops of water from your eyes. I’m thirsty for your sadness.

My asshole smells like a paper mill. Three cheers for being a writer.

What’s furry, has four legs, and meows? My dinner, before I killed and cooked it.

I planted the seed in her imagination, and then I farmed it. Like a fisherman.

I’m divorced, so I know what it takes to make a marriage work. My love is like an empty box of desert. Just add water.

With all the money my uncle embezzled over the years, it’s no surprise he lives in a gated community. But what is amazing, however, is that he somehow managed to get his own cell.

It’s 3:32, and I need just one more ingredient to finish baking 3:33. Would you prefer the AM or the PM piece?

I made a Lindsey Sandwich out of two Jennifers and a Jessica. Then I ate it like I make love—alone, in the corner, with a box of tissues and lots of tears.

If my love for cats were hydrogen, there’d be enough of it to give you skin cancer if you didn’t wear suntan lotion. The only sad part for me about getting a cat from the...

A Taste of the Gulag.”

Love is me plus you. But what’s with the midget in the corner recording all of our interactions? I thought I fired him yesterday.

The Sweater Song” was inspired by a legendary cat sweater I knitted.

Finger food, is that food you eat with your fingers, or is that where you eat your fingers? I’m starving, but I also want to play the piano, so I need to know.

I need more frugality. I wonder where I can buy some.

I want to say something so embarrassing about September that even the leaves start blushing and turning red.

The Italians say ciao. The Chinese say Chow. And the Americans chow while they say stuff.

If you want me, you’d better hurry. Act now, supplies are limited.

We all long for something. Midgets long to be long, but I long to belong.

Friendship is like putting butter on your socks before you slide them on. Sure, we all do it occasionally, but most of us would rather eat breakfast bare-handed at least once in a while.

Stupidity mixed with arrogance mixed with anger mixed with adrenaline is a deadly combination. Just as deadly as adding fries and a soda and making it a combo meal.

I want to see an elephant hunt down a man for the sole purpose of collecting his teeth, while a chorus of typewriters sings songs that praises the bananas for their wisdom, leadership, and their...