I would pour you a glass of wine, but wouldn’t it be more romantic if you sipped it out of my armpit?

The bounties of space, of infinite outwardness, were three: empty heroics, low comedy, and pointless death.

She said she loved me, and I believed her, because she was looking directly at another man when she said it.

We made love like my foot cramped up in the middle. That was the last time I tried to do a marathon session.

I carry a shower curtain folded up neatly in my wallet, because you never know when you’ll never know.

I watched the sunset from the comfort of my bathtub, which has a clear bottom so I had an unobstructed view.

Water always flows downhill. So does my love. Are you prepared for a flood? You’d better build an ark.

Welcome to Pantsland. Have a seat. Empty your pockets of masturbation and throw away your love of self-love.

I heard my friend’s car wouldn’t start, so I mailed him a parking lot. I should be a politician.

Sharks are so sleek and streamlined. I’d make a terrible shark, because my balls are so big and dangly.

If I were a Wild West cowboy, I wouldn’t ride a horse—I’d ride a wheelchair. More romantic.

I like to see cats tumble around, but I wish they wouldn’t meow so much when I shove them in the dryer.

Love is what you make it. Unfortunately, I can’t make it today, as I have a doctor’s appointment.

Why go to remote parts of the world? If they’re remote, just turn them on and watch them on your couch.

Humans are creatures, who spent their lifes trying to convince themselves, that their existence is not absurd