“The sign on the side of the highway said “Shoulder Work,” and I thought, “I could go for a massage right now.” So I pulled over.”

“The car wash sign said, “Free Vacuums.” So I told them I wanted a high-powered Dyson. I figured it’d be a good gift for my girl, so she could stop sweeping the living room carpet.”

“She didn't say it, I only thought she said it. So really it was my thought, my words, and not hers. How could I confuse "I love you" with "May I take your order?”

“I nearly ran him over after he ran out in front of my car. So I slammed on the brakes, rolled down my window, and said, “Do you realize I could have killed you?” “It was stupid of me to run out in front of you,” he said. “Yeah, it was,” I replied. “But I’m not talking about now. Last Tuesday I could have killed you. Had you in the scope of my rifle, but I let you live. Now THAT was stupid.”

“I told you I didn’t want to go. Of course, I really did want to go, but I just said I didn’t want to go so you’d beg me to go and I could feel needed. I’m needy like that.”

“Sign I wrote on the inside of a brick wall: This is not an exit. This is a wall. Though if you get a long running start, and really throw your shoulder into it, I’m sure you could get out this way.”

“The sign said don’t do it, so naturally I did it. Signs are always saying stuff in a silent way.
 Writing is a way to say something in a silent way.”