I'd like to sing you a song now about my old girlfriend. It's called "They'll Find Her When the Leaves Blow Away 'Cause I'm Not Raking 'Til Spring."
I wear my heart on my sleeve. I wear my liver on my pant leg.
All the plants in my house are dead - I shot them last night. I was teasing them by watering them with ice cubes.
Isn't Disney World a people trap operated by a mouse?
For my sister's 50th birthday, I sent her a singing mammogram.
Sometimes I talk to myself in languages I'm unfamiliar with... just to screw with my subconscious.