My love sits on the stove like a cat with an oven mitt for an ass.

If you’re going to hold a grudge, at least put on an oven mitt before you pick it up.

Who wants to be the unsung heroes of my voiceless choir quartet? We’re the Helen Kellers, and I’m holding auditions with oven mitts, because they’re sure to be hot.

I always wear an oven mitt when I go in for a handshake, because I like to give visual hints about what kind of lover I’d make. I don’t use a cup to drink coffee—I...