Stick Boy liked Match Girl,He liked her a lot.He liked her cute figure,he thought she was hot.But could a flame ever burnfor a match and a stick?It did quite literally;he burned up quick.

An Alabama-faced man with a Georgia body once told me I had the smile of an Emily. That made me grin, which is definitely not how an Emily would react, so I knew it couldn’t be true.

My response landed me in hot water. A dirty dish also landed in hot water. If I weren’t such a raging feminist, maybe I’d buy a dishwater instead of scrubbing them all by hand.

I saw a white toilet, with no plumbing, alone in a field of snow. Well, almost alone. There were two naked albinos and a polar bear sitting on it, and I felt inspired to write a love poem.

She said, “What?” so I replied, “What what?” She gave me a look that said, “What what what?” and I didn’t respond because I fell in love with her.

My hands fell asleep, so I washed them with hot coffee. Then I had donuts for breakfast, by way of spinning circles in my car and burning rubber in the parking garage of my office building.

When I was young, I was 13 going on 31. Then when I was 30 going on 31, I was 30 going on 29. Now I’m in love and I’ve lost all sense of time—and all the rest of my sense.

You see, I’ve heard of a man whose friend had been imprisoned and who slept on the floor of his room every night in order not to enjoy a comfort of which his friend had been deprived.

You know you’re in love when you reach out to hold your woman’s hand, without remembering that her hands are full because you insisted she carry all the groceries out to the car.

Love is a hooray in your heart. How can I describe how I feel about her except to say it’s almost like swimming in hot nacho cheese sauce, being chased down by a stoned Michael Phelps.

I want to gather up all the ink cartridges in the universe, because somewhere, mixed in with all that ink, is the next great American novel. And I’d love nothing more than to drink it.

If I had a funny thought and a runny nose, but only had one napkin and no paper, I’d rather use that napkin to write on than blow my nose. After all, that’s what sleeves are for.

The girl who did my oil change was so sexy that after she was done, I drove nonstop 2500 miles one way, just so I could immediately turn around and drive back with a reason to see her again.

I bought you a box of karate chops, but it could be dangerous to open it with a knife. And cats are masters at getting into boxes, so here, try opening it with my portable meow maker.


My close friends are fond of telling me that I put the “yalt” in loyalty. Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far with it, but yeah, I guess I am a pretty yalty person.