A brick could be used as brain filler for the political mind, just in case one of our elected officials needs a brain transplant to try to boost their intellectual capabilities. 


A blanket could be used to save your marriage. But to be honest, I’d recommend saving your marriage in a Tupperware container. That way it’ll stay fresher for longer.


Bricks could be used to feed the homeless. But why not use those bricks to build the homeless people homes? Oh yeah, because that’s not the sort of smart decision DC makes.


I can’t define what love is. That’s like eating a pancake with a waffle instead of a fork. But you know it when you feel it, like petting a cat wearing a synthetic fur coat.

St John had always been a fan of the RS Turbo, mainly due to the colour coded rear spoiler and air vents in the bonnet, which distinguished it from the more common and less powerful XR3i.

A blanket could be used as a TV screen. How? No—why? Even better—why not? Why not wrap yourself up in your favorite TV shows and let the screen warm your body and soul?


A brick could be used as a flying decision inducer. You could have said yes before I threw the brick, but I suppose you’ll be more agreeable when you wake up from your coma. 


A brick could be used as a substitute for my father. I hate to admit it, but I think a brick would make a better dad than that guy I call “The Guy That Never Calls Me.”


A brick could be used to block a mouse hole. But something better that would not only block the hole physically, but also psychologically, would be to stuff a dead rat in the hole.


A brick could be used to stop a bleeding wound. Though just between you and me, I’d prefer to be bandaged by a Band-Aid, a blanket, or a pair of lace panties (preferably red).


A brick could be used as an identifier, for all those people with no real identities. I’m talking about clones, because just like bricks, each clone is exactly like the next. 


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.

A blanket could be used to improve the quality of your trumpet playing. Wrap the blanket tightly around and in the horn section before you start blowing, and my ears will thank you.


Why take the stairs when someone else can take them for you? Love is like a flight of stairs—somebody’s going to take them, so I may as well be unselfish and take the elevator.

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.