I often confuse fog and mist. But one is not the other any more than either are either. Let this be a lesson in love.

There’s lots of love in Ocala. Must be something in the water. That’s probably why I have to pee so much.

The scope of my problem will easily fit in the scope of my rifle. Too bad true love has to come with a mother-in-law.

I eat toast and ice—because bread and water just aren’t enough for me. I’m also an insatiable lover.

I make love like Brett Favre threw his first pass as a Green Bay Packer—to himself. Obviously, himself is myself.

I didn’t have time to grow out a beard, so I glued a wig on instead. I make love like a hare in a tortoise shell.

If you make a nickel a second, you can’t afford to pick up a penny off the ground. It’s the same with love.

I invented a Love Machine. You should buy two, one as a backup—or to run both simultaneously while you masturbate.

I love you because I love you, and if you don’t like it you can use my circular logic as a noose and hang yourself.

One's dignity may be assaulted, vandalized and cruelly mocked, but it can never be taken awayunless it is surrendered.

Yesterday I shat rainbows until my anus started bleeding from a unicorn’s horn. 
Ah, the joys of being in love.

Love is the walrus I crayon with like it’s the Eifel Tower. I know, love doesn’t make much sense to me, either.

There’s no room for love in my life. My car trunk is already full of groceries, a spare tire, and two kidnap victims.

My love for her is as nuanced as a Nancy, and I wish her name were Nancy so I could more effectively convey my love for her.

I just yawned. Now that is exciting. Almost as thrilling as making love to me thirty minutes after I’ve fallen asleep.