My love is popular. It must be, because I never have any. Is it because I don’t produce any, or because I’m always sold out?

Nine times out of ten I left one out. But the one I leave out is never love. I always put love in—even when I put it in your butt.

I am the Secretary of Secrecy. I’ve got filing cabinets and safes full of Shh! That’s also where I store all my love for you.

My sheep pants don’t make me one of them. However, 37 Brantleys made an appeal on my behalf, but I still have to take off my pants.

I once saw two endangered species about to have sex, but I had to put a stop to it because I suspected one of them of being a prostitute.

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.

Toothpaste Tuesday—bring in your favorite toothpaste-covered t-shirt and win free condoms. Remember to smile, because life goes on.

Your dog looks dirty. You could give it a bath, or I could piss on it for free. Or you could pay me to piss on it, that’d work too.

We made love like two Inuits make love like two popsicles, and then we went back to our cold lives. That was the best summer of my night.

The ocean in the sky keeps my love fresh like boat shoes that are too big to fail. My heart is flooded with feelings like Noah one knows.

I drive as fast as four tire swings hanging from a tree branch in the middle of winter. I also make love with as much speed and rotation.

I’ve had a stressful day, and I need something stronger than beer. Somebody fetch me a bodybuilder. Check the cooler in the garage.

Her last name was Purchase, and I was sold. I tried to buy, but as there was only one of her, she was OUT OF STOCK. Better luck tomorrow.

I gave my girlfriend a gallon of my semen and a minivan and told her to fill it up with kids. Big mistake! I should have given her a bus.

The clouds are like marble in the sky, and I just want to make a kitchen counter out of the atmosphere. I can cook like a flock of birds.