I'm happier than a sentient pickle in an unopenable jar.
I'm thirstier than a windmill in a Zebra fire.
I'm more floored than a fish on a treadmill.
I feel like a taco in a birdbath.
I feel like an unloaded shotgun firing at a mobile pharmacy on a farm.
I'm less popular than a gator at a pett'n' zoo.
I'm more content than a lobster watching a rodeo.
I'm more ticklish than a cobra that swallowed a pet rock.
I feel like a loaf of bread floating in pine oil.
I'm more buoyant than a pillow full of love letters to a wombat.
I feel like a legless oil painting confusedly running from a jewel thief.
I feel like I was born yesterday but live 30 years in the future.
I feel like a 4th grade report card with no As because it's in Chinese.
I'm more irked than a glassless butterfly.
I'm hungrier than a pigeon that has been tortured to eat waffles for 3 days straight.
I'm more ready for seconds than a shark eating fish sticks.
It's the Bermuda Septagon I'm worried about.
I feel like a billionaire who had to leave his platform shoes behind to run away from gigantic amebas.
I feel like a garden of children planted like carrots into the ground because their parents thought it would help them grow faster.
I feel more mild than an off brand salsa.
I feel like a toast that's been on a wheat grain slide that ends in a vat of almost completely jelled gelatin.
I feel better than a sea horse in a race against a real horse.
I feel like a Eskimo child weeping over a whale carcass.
I feel rougher than transcription of a dog conversation.
I feel like a box of crayons that melted from natural causes.
I feel like the star that whispers about hamburger cooking safety in sentient cows ears.
I feel like hearing bread testimonies about transtoasting.
I feel like lephrchons smoothed out an elephants skin so they could use it as a 3D water slide.
I feel like a stack of daffodils used for currency by butterflies.
I feel like a storm that rains mustard.
I'm luckier than most atomic whale kitten analyzers
I feel like a self-made man looking at his family tree.
I feel like an out of style hat plugged into an orange oven socket.
I'm cloudlier than a spatula returning to Spatula City after the great breakfast tornado.
I feel like the warning label stuck to a package of labels.
I'm less camouflaged than a geometrically ambiguous tuba.
I'm more full of corned beef than a nite lite choking on a whale harness.
I'm less thrifty than a snow globe built to scale teriyakied demolitioners' cranes.
I'm cuddlier than the 3 push brooms that want to finally sweep up Neptune.
I feel like a wombat taking a Tuvaluan citizenship test while covered in silly string.
I feel like a cobra trying to swim up the stream of a Super Soaker.
I feel like a bus stop on a log raft.
I feel like mayonnaise mixed with Miracle Whip giving birth to packets of salad dressing.
I'm cheerier than a kite going to the moon.
I have more spring in my step than a concrete step ladder.
I'm sadder than a bag of flour being thrown into a ceiling fan.. that is turned off.
I feel like a catapult that only throws in the towel.
I feel like goldenrod paper sitting next to a smart phone.
I'm so cold my goose bumps feel like turtle shells with soliduses painted on them.
I feel like a nodding chimp powering a paint mixer.
I feel like a barrel of monkeys.. going over a waterfall.. at a splash park.
I feel like I just used chain mail as a towel.
I feel like a cacti wearing a tight coat.
I feel like a buoyant rock enjoying the sunshine.
I feel like tripping on an invisible stoop.
I feel like wearing sunglasses made of ice cheese.
I feel like high "fiveing" a hand saw but not so hard that I can only high four afterwards.
I feel like eating pancakes on the moon.
I feel like giving a swordfish a greeting card that is shaped like a shield.
I feel like getting a hair cut just to warn the others of my upcoming haircut.
I feel like rowboats get a bad wrap at Christmas time.
I feel like firing my writer & hiring my left hand because he works for less pay.
I feel like a ghost that can't fly or swim stuck in a row boat.
I feel like a bean bag chair filled with cooked rigatoni instead.
I feel like a lunchbox made out of stone filled with loose pudding & locked sandwiches.
I feel like a catapult dangerously pulting rotisserie blue whale over the border into a hungry nation.
I feel like a mop made of spaghetti & a bread stick handle mopping up marinara. I also feel like eating that mop afterwards.
I feel like an envelope filled with Monopoly cash being slipped under the kitchen table as a bribe.
I feel like a black cardboard cutout laid on the floor as a shadow for another cardboard cutout.
I feel like Street Nicholas having his resume mistaken for Saint Nicholas’ again!
I feel like the color blue trying to rebrand its image to make lots of green like green has.