I write music—for whales. You can’t hear it, but rest assured, it’s excellent. Mostly they’re love songs. Listen with your heart—but be careful, because my songs have an irregular beat.

My hair isn’t as white as snow, because it’s not old enough—or cold enough.

With 87 other Elvis impersonators, I’m going to take over the world. Starting with Vegas. We will gyrate our hips out of love, and to end world hunger.

I had a dream where I drank my own grandma. What she was doing disguised as a bottle of booze isn’t entirely clear to me.

Whoever walks in reverse, please come forward. Tell me you love me, and tell me backwards, like a palindrome.

To be the best, you have to do what nobody does. And nobody does nothing great anymore, which is why I’ll be great by doing nothing great.

The cycle of parental disapproval begins at dawn. That’s why I have to get up five minutes before sunrise, so I can berate my grandpa like he was my own child.

I had a dream about you. The blue sky matched the blue in your eyes, though you had a few more clouds in your irises. When you got sad, you didn’t cry—you rained, and that’s...

I’m a great dancer, and you can tell because I need to wear a football helmet when I’m feeling the rhythm. It’s not only for my safety, but also that of the safety covering my...

All the Debbies in the world are too big to be little. Makes me wish I were just two inches taller, you know? I blame my dad—or the mailman. Not sure yet. I get the...

Fries with what? I haven’t ordered yet.

I sold ten bags of hellos for five bags of goodbyes. I’d say that’s a good profit. Or it was, before I blew all my goodbyes on ex lovers.

The smell of silence looks like the ghost of my grandpa. My love is deeper than six feet of dirt, and considerably easier to shovel.

My love can only occupy one person at a time. I try for that person to not be me.

One giant leap, followed by one small step.

I wouldn’t want to work in a nursery, because I can’t deal with children. Or bees. Can I offer you some tea, or some biscuits and a diaper?

The birds bark my name, and I meow theirs in return. I may be a bit mixed up about life, but not about love. Or maybe I mixed that up.

The two squirrels quarreled like lovers, and it moved me so much I made both into one toupee. I’m not bald, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wear it. I’m a romantic.

I suggest to you the power of suggestion of powerful.

I don’t like Dijon or honey mustard. No, the only kind of mustard I like is #FFFF00 mustard.

I’m a book lover. I’ve probably already fucked a whole library.

Even free things, things that cost no money, still cost time.

Why send roses? Wouldn’t it be more romantic to deliver a dozen orgasms? For only $19.95, I’ll deliver them to your woman any day of the year. But be sure to book early for Valentine’s...

Love is to beer as I am to drunk. And you say I’m not romantic. Shoot, I’m so romantic I could just puke.

I opened my wallet and gave him a coupon, hoping he’d open his wallet and give me money.

I got fat, and I decided to do something about it, so I got fatter.

Dear Ian, I felt good. I felt like a Christian to the T. Also to the Chris, Ian.

invest” my money.

North, south, east, west, I need to find a nude erection to point the way.

It’s a black and white issue: gray is grey, and there’s no two ways about it.

I’m making top dollar now. I just wish I were making the bottom dollars too.

I’ve come a long way in the last year. 365 days, to be exact.

Somebody needs to pet me, and I guess that somebody is me. My cat is busy sleeping.

If I can scoop soup at 20 MPH while riding a three-legged horse, just imagine how great of a lover I am when I’m lying perfectly still.

I’ll take a brick in a blanket, hold the ice.” What the bartender started, the Finnish guy finished, and the brick and the blanket thought they’d better to drink elsewhere. * A brick in a...

I blink like a blanket. I’m not asleep—this extended motionlessness is how I make love.

I loved her bravely, like a fighter turned sprinter. I loved her so fiercely that I never even dared speak of my feelings. And because I displayed as much passion as a statue, our relationship...

I feel like someone who has a parade named in their honor, and doesn’t get invited.

I toss and turn so much in my sleep that the very act of sleeping must be exhausting for me. Sleeping makes me want to sleep even more.

My love for her is deep, like the ocean, only not so salty. My love for her probably only has as much salt as a bag of potato chips, though it’s much, much more addicting...

I need to condense my adrenaline, carbonate it, sweeten it, and sell it as an energy drink.

Improve your life by taking advantage of new technologies like bleach and a drinking glass. Show your love for the globe by reducing an overpopulated world by one.

Feed me, you moron.

Clothes are expensive. Save money and become a nudist. Remember: Fashions may change, but naked is always in style.

If body language is 90% of a conversation, then obviously what’s being said is only half as important as what’s not being said. And what are you saying? I can’t hear you when my back...

His loyalty has the consistency of a booger—sticky for a while, but easily flicked off. I’d probably love Prague in the spring.

A blanket could be used to cover up your infidelity. Either use the blanket to hide your cheating ways, or figure out how to fornicate with all your clothes on.

I can tell if two people are in love by how they hold each other’s hands, and how thick their sanitation gloves are.

If words were leaves, would you prefer fall or spring?

A brick could be used to decorate a house. And not just one brick, thousands could be stacked and affixed together and really make your house not only feel like a home, but less drafty...