What I know about being in love can be summed up in three words: Huh, who me?
Jarod KintzAfter a long day of screaming at the trees, I smell like a skyscraper. Would you care to ride on my elevator shaft?
Jarod KintzI want a Snuggle Sandwich—hold the pickle. Make it a combo and upsize it.
Jarod KintzIs there anything more pathetic than a flower that doesn’t get enough sunlight and dies, because it couldn’t get out of bed until four in the afternoon?
Jarod KintzA vibrating toothbrush is one hygienic marvel of a sex toy. The next time I want to make love, I’ll make a dentist appointment.
Jarod KintzI can’t marry a bisexual woman, because she might be having an affair with the same person I’m having an affair with. And it’s not affair to share.
Jarod KintzWe were wearing diapers at the same time. We didn’t grow up together, however. I was in the crib, and she was playing cribbage in the nursing home.
Jarod KintzAfter a shower, I like to let gravity and evaporation dry me off as I stretch out naked in the sun on my neighbor’s porch.
Jarod KintzLove is a bicycle with two pancakes for wheels. You may see love as more of an exercise in hard work, but I see it as more of a breakfast on the go.
Jarod KintzI want to write my own eulogy, and I want to write it in Latin. It seems only fitting to read a dead language at my funeral.
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