Suicide pact: I’ll shoot you, and then you’ll shoot me.

If you ask me a multiple part question, and half my answers are yes and half are no, I may just average them together and give you a definitive and vague maybe.

Who’d win in a battle of who has the most love, me or Cupid? My money’s on me. Literally. All the money I have in the world is on me at the moment. And if...

If you want to find dirt on me, wait until after I’m dead and buried.

The best way to sell a car is to first try to sell them an airplane, then a horse, and then finally bring up the newest model automobile you have for sale.

Rage is a big part of courage. So is cou.

If death is the end of life, what is birth the end of?

I have two hands so I can provide companionship to myself by holding one hand with the other. As a lover, I am self-sufficient.

I’ll write The Art Of Love, which will be tactical, like The Art Of War.

My plan to live from 65 to forever is to simply keep showing up. I also don’t want to retire at the same age as a road’s speed limit—unless that speed limit is 35. Live...

Some wise guys came by my business establishment and tried to offer me neighborhood protection. They weren’t mafia, but they were wearing togas.

I didn’t have time to grow out a beard, so I glued a wig on instead. I make love like a hare in a tortoise shell.

I want to do something different, and make a difference in people’s lives. If everyone jumps off a bridge, I’ll be the guy who built that bridge.

She tried to insult me in front of the whole party. So what could I do but yawn and walk away?

I won’t die for my love—but I will live for her, which is much harder and more impactful.

I wasn’t dead, I was asleep. There’s a difference, however slight. That subtle difference is between being a stiff and having a stiffy.

People are temporary, but love is eternal.

Every night I pray I whisper into a megaphone, not only so God is sure to hear, but also my neighbors, because I pray to God He’ll deliver pestilence and plague to the residents next...

I welcome all You’re Welcomes with open arms and open zippers. My love for her is sandwiched between two slices of Thank You.

He said he thinks he’s God, and I said, In that case, I’m an atheist.

I’m so hungry I could eat a mop. I mean map. I’m so lost when it comes to words.

I don’t know what’s in the box, but I love it. Unopened gifts contain hope.

I am a forward thinker with nostalgia. I dream of the past, and daydream of the future.

I want to go to sleep in my time machine and wake up eight hours in the future.

His name was Skip, but I didn’t. I waited patiently in line behind him. But do not be confused. I am not the kind of lover who lets other men go first.

I want to write a book on sex. It will be filled with phrases like “Uuuhgh yeeeaaaah,” and “Ooooh that’s it,” and “Whose hands are those?

The chair I want for my office has wheels, so I can put it on my treadmill and get some exercise while I work. Likewise, we can’t let a love like ours just roll on...

I’m going on vacation, and I’m leaving my clone in charge. I’ll be gone, but I’ll be here.

A brick could be used to better improve relations with your relatives. But if you’re going to play quarterback, you’d better be ready to play receiver.

Too bad the buttons on my shirt don’t operate the elevator at work. If they did, maybe I wouldn’t have taken off my pants and taken the stairs.

I want a driveway so long you couldn’t see the end of it even if you were 26.1 miles into running a marathon on it. But why would you run? That’s why my clone will...

A blanket could be used as a smothering agent, sort of like an employee of the NSA.

The escalator doesn’t work, and you’d think they’d still be used as stairs, but in this economic depression, even the stairs are unemployed.

I like watching people stretch in the park. It’s my new favorite pastime since I bought a portable rack.

A brick could be slid on a wood floor, like a rolling bowling ball, in an attempt to fill the seconds between swallows of beer.

A brick could be used to represent a memory. That way when you live in a brick house, you could be living in the past.

Her name is Faith, or that’s what I believe it to be.

Sex and violence: the greatest duo since the Three Stooges.

A blanket could be used for political transparency. After all, what’s more see-through than a brick wall?

Because I’m emotionally immature, I’d prefer letting go of you early and always remembering you as you were, rather than hanging on and letting things develop and blossom and then eventually decay.

I don’t need love. I live in a forest. The quiet is my companion. The cold is my warmth. My heart once suffered from frostbite, but I removed and replaced it with a fuel pump.

A blanket could be used to fly interdimensionally. My penis is a wormhole.

If I went into the prosthetic limb business, I’d charge an arm and a leg.

I am not the Bird of Love I once thought I was. But my silence suggests I may be the Pterodactyl of Love.

A brick could be used to back the dollar. Hey, it’s better than the dollar being backed by nothing, right?

When trying to find the words to tell her how much I loved her, I stumbled across the ingredients for grilled cheese sandwiches. That’s when I realized she was the melted cheese to my toast....

If love came in a cardboard tube, I’d probably send it priority mail. But I’d make you pay for shipping.

Movado,” because it’s a waste of time. Instead of spending your free time trying to put a ball in a net, how about reading a few books.

The US is at a point where just when the people imagine things can’t get any worse, they realize their imaginations weren’t big enough.

Her love was like cigarette smoke stirred into coffee. I drank it so fast it made me cough, but she’s not offering a refill at any price.