Our Love

«The only reason I ever licked you, baby, was the salt.»
«Stop it.»
«Take your lumbar roll and get out! Futon woman.»
Our love is like standing on an ice floe outside your house, watching you mount
another man
Our love is like Jiffy Pop: it takes a long time to rise and, when it does,
it doesn’t quite seem like the real thing
Our love is like our best friend’s love, only better
It’s clear to me now, our love is like Santa Claus: the only ones who’ll
believe in it are small children who don’t understand how the world really
works
Our love is like work gloves, owned by someone who never works
Our love is like having sex with a dwarf when you’re drunk: oh, it’s great at
the time, but when you think about it the next day at work, you feel shame and
guilt and an array of sadness
Our love is like the book Jonathan Livingston Seagull: I tried reading it when
I was 14, just couldn’t get through it
Our love is like a Bruce Springsteen concert: it’s not that great,
it’s really long, but, wow, what energy!
Our love is like «The Brady Bunch»… No, «The Partridge Family»…
No, «The Brady Bunch»… No, «The Partridge Family»… No, «The Brady Bunch»…
No, like «WKRP In Cincinnati»
Oh, I know what show our love is like: «Cops», that racist, welfare-hating
crack-hunt
Our love, and I mean this in a nice way, is like taking Lassie to the desert,
removing her teeth with a hunting knife, and shooting her in the head with a
gun that you and she built together
Our love is like licking the ass of a dead squirrel that’s laying bloated in
the sun. But, also, there’s a negative side?
Our love is like my parents' love, the only difference is I won’t wait 'til you
to die to leave you
Don’t get me wrong, I like our love. It’s just not very… funny?