It’s the same with cell phones. I never answer them up to my ear. I always put it on speakerphone and hold it six to eight inches away from my brain. Here’s an example of...

I called Phil up, but I didn’t call Phillip. He hung up on me, and I’m still hung up about that. To make things right I might just call Phillip and hang up.

The referees made a questionable call. Still, I was ready with an answer and picked up on the first ring. That ring was an engagement ring, and I said yes.

My phone rang a long time, so I answered. How long? Eight feet long. My last relationship was half that long. I should be taller in love.

I keep my phone on vibrate, and I keep it close to my genitals. You should call me. A lot.

We had a whirlwind romance. That’s what happens when you date a tornado. Hold on, I have to stop tweeting for a bit because Kansas keeps calling.

I didn’t call her, but the phone works two ways. So does my love.

I remember my first cell phone number still. I may call it and ask to speak to myself from eight years ago. If they say I have the wrong number I’ll tell them, No, right...

I talked to him on Christmas, and again on March 5th. Neither one of us hung up the phone that whole time.

Life is still very much the same since I said I love you and she said nothing. That was two months ago, and neither one of us has yet to hang up the phone. I...