I have never seduced a fish taco for selfish reasons. I am an altruistic lover.

I’d never name my kid Mark, for fear he’d be a target—a mark.

A brick could be used to help you keep your job. Just hold it down, man.


Love dances in my heart like a nudist in socks. Boy, that jig is awfully jiggly.

The mouth is made for communication, and nothing is more articulate than a kiss.

A brick could be used as a deodorant deterrent. Just ask any stinky Congressman.

A brick is to a blanket, as the moon is to Sun Tzu. Fear my fearlessness!


I took a nap and used a napkin as a blanket. Obviously it was a small nap.


A blanket could be used to fly interdimensionally. My penis is a wormhole.


A brick could be used to keep warm, and a blanket could be used to build a house.

A brick could be used as a laxative. You know, “Shit a brick.”


I built my marriage brick by brick. And I destroyed it blanket by blanket.


Love is the only gift that’s acceptable to give away as soon as you get it.

It's strange how time can make a place shrink, make its strangeness ordinary.

He’s not my son, but his last name is Myson. Same spelling, big difference.