“I’d like to tweeze all the Tuesdays of the year, and all the Mondays off my chest.”

“Mondays are mundane, like Tuesdays minus 24 hours.
”

“If birthdays fell from the sky like Saturdays shaped like saxophones, I’d learn how to play the flute on Tuesdays.”

“The hole in my heart matches the key I gave her, and I’d like it back, along with the key to my hope chest.”

“Sitting on my ass all day long is fun and all, but I’d rather sit on your ass. More padding, like an overstuffed sofa.”

“How To Tweeze Your Way To Wealth, by I. Brows”

“She was in a coma, and had been unresponsive for years. Every Tuesday I’d visit her and read to her, and as I’d leave I’d always say, “I love you,” as I’d kiss her on her forehead. One day as I was leaving, I said my normal I love you and kissed her, when her eyes popped open, she looked directly into my eyes, smiled, and then she said, “Spaghetti for brains albino idea weasel.” And that was when I stabbed her with a piece of garlic toast. It seemed like the most appropriate response. The police didn’t seem to agree, and I could tell by the way they bagged the evidence in a To Go box that they thought I was the lowest of the low, lower perhaps than even a politician. Well, not quite that low, but certainly with the cockroaches, vultures, and aids-infested vampires.”