I don’t need a hearing aid—I need a listening aid. And this aid, she’d better be pleasing to look at.

If love had feathers and tasted like dog food, then I suggest you wear shoes with your banana pudding. (This statement also defines my political beliefs).

I want to do something for a living that when it comes time to retire and I can stop doing it, I’ll want to continue doing it in my free time.

A brick could be used to monitor earthquakes. If the brick crumbles apart, you can bet an earthquake occurred.

Mustache,” because I have an eyebrow on my upper lip. When I close my lips it’s like a wink and a kiss combined. It’s like lust overload.

Thinking ahead is like remembering the future. How about that time we made love? I’ll bet it will be amazing.

It’s sad to see old friends have to move away, but at the same time, you know the retirement home is the best place for them.

decorating” my ex girlfriend’s front yard.

Nothing is going on under his skull. All his neural activity happens between his hips.

I went to the priest for confession, but he didn’t do it.

Your love story, I don’t want to give away the ending, but both you and your lover die.

I put the anal in analysis. Now don’t you go putting your dick in my work.

I can read lips. Especially if they have words tattooed on them.

Love will find you eventually, I guarantee it. That’s why you need to buy an invisible cloak from me for the one-time low price of $77,777.77. Offer valid for emotional invalids only.

What’s on my mind? I could say you, but we both know I’d be lying. Actually, I’m only pretending that you aren’t on my mind. But I know that you don’t mind.

I may have written this before, but I may not have written it as well, so I’ll write it again.

The moon looked like melted mozzarella to my bleary and blurry vision. Was I tired, intoxicated, or in love? Or was I sober, asleep, and alone?

After learning the foreign language Gibberish, I became a dream spokesman.

Writing is the art of remembering and forgetting. You must forget what you’ve already written, because if you’re dwelling on your old material you can’t write new material, and you must remember all you’ve written...

I know a woman loves me when she leaves me leftovers in the fridge from the date she went on the night before.

Believe in yourself,” with an accompanying image of a wilting flower.

Don’t tell me to write your story. Write your own story. If you won’t write it down, it probably isn’t worth writing down—or reading.

Learning how to love is like learning how to tie your shoes, and that’s precisely why I wear slippers.

Gain a person’s trust through numerous small acts of benevolence, so you can lose their trust in one large act of self-enrichment.

Air conditioning is indoor winter. Coffee is liquid wakefulness. And my love is like For Sale, only it’s not on sale. I’m afraid there is no discount.

F*** you.” Then I’ll go back to that person and pin the flower on their lapel in a gesture of friendship. And while they are looking down on it in astonishment, I’ll bunch up my...

Come buy from me what you could rent elsewhere. Like a Like button or a wiggly wrench—or donuts that yesterday would have been free at the store next to mine.

I had a dream about you. I was drinking a cup of coffee, and you were a cup of coffee in the process of taking over a man. I thought I was consuming you, but...

The way I wrestle five-year-olds makes me think if I were ever attacked by a pack of midgets, I’d be OK.

To me, life is sad, like a piano with no pedals being played by a person with no fingers.

I started writing to get women, or rather a particular woman, and I continue writing because it’s now a compulsion.

I was so offended I wanted to light his face on fire. But I restrained myself, because he was wearing my cat on his head.

Mr. Armstrong has strong arms. Probably from bicycling so much. And steroids.

I’m creative, I make up almost everything. But with all my creativity, I couldn’t make up with my wife.

Too bad Americans can’t export Awesome, because I have boxes and boxes of the stuff just lying around in my attic.

I don’t eat Sloppy Joes. I eat Tidy Josephs.

The girl I am in love with told me she’s moving on. Should I cry, or go to Jax beach and party? The ocean’s salty enough without my tears.

Artists exist to show us the world. So do windows.

How do two retards eat a turd sandwich? Well, not by first wiping their ass with wheat bread like I showed them.

A fire truck is just a drivable penis. The flames of my love might engulf you, if you don’t let me park inside you.

Cats are puddles of cuteness. I stepped in one the other day that was so muddy I not only had to pet it, but cuddle with it for hours.

Tell me you love me like you mean it, and tell me while your mouth is full of food.

I didn’t go to the water park because it was raining, and I didn’t want to get wet.

I lost a little weight over the weekend. I cut my fingernails.

The only way to eat Cheerios is without cheer. Could a product name be more of an oxymoron?

After they broke up, Renaldo’s ex girlfriend said to never again date an older woman. And he wisely listened to her, because his mother only had his best interest in mind.

Just to show my dad that I think he’s number one, I bought him a urinal cake for his birthday.

I walk like a guitar being strummed, and I love like cheese being forced through a grater. I like my nachos covered in melted music.

I live a single life. But only because there’s not enough room in my astronaut suit for two. There’s no love on the moon.

Eddie Money and Johnny Cash should have collaborated. I’d have paid good last name to see them in concert.