Yes, love is a total mystery. Those semen stains, though, are probably a clue.
Nightingales are known for their sweet, often melodious song. However, the one outside your window seems way more interested in Dancehall Reggae.
Remember: The sum of the pleasure of any two sides of a right-angle love triangle is equal to the underlying jealousy of the hypotenuse.
Try not to hold onto any animosity you may feel toward your coworkers this week, as that asshole Dave would probably love it if you did.
The doctors will soon treat you for an acute case of tuberculosis, but don’t be alarmed: They’re mostly just bored.
Repeated incidents of drunken and disorderly conduct, public urination, and indecent exposure will completely ruin what was once a very charming little Funkytown.
No man should be made to feel like a stranger in his own home. Even if that home no longer belongs to him, and he has sneak in through its basement window late at night.
Speed-dating may not have worked for you in the past, but this time, try it without so much methamphetamine in your system.
Sometimes you wish your kids had come with an instruction manual, but then, that’s the price you pay for getting them second-hand.
You’ll be showered with dozens upon dozens of beautiful bouquets this Valentine’s Day, all carefully and lovingly arranged, around your tombstone.
Disappointment will once again be yours this week when that female mongoose call turns out to be just another overweight human.
You’ll find what you need in the sweet, innocent arms of a child, especially since what you need is fresh bone marrow.
