If my blog were a garden, it would be over run with weeds.
If life were a sundae, I would ask who ate the cherry.
If I were a hippo, I would float gracefully instead of sink as I thrash wildly.
If a hand were a claw, it would pinch people a great deal more often.
If a book could speak, he would always tell the same story.
If a tree grew down instead of up, digging holes would be even more of a pain.
If holes filled themselves, I'd dig more holes.
If I dug more holes, people would think moles were mutating.
If lawyers were honest, perhaps justice would be done more often.
If you tickle me, I may scream.