My poor wife was sick in bed with the flu. Being a dutiful husband, I offered to fix her some of her favorite herbal tea. I couldn't find the tea though and went back upstairs to ask where it was.
She said, "I don't know how it could be any easier to see. It's in the pantry, third shelf down, in a cocoa tin marked 'matches'. Can't see how you missed it?"
Every December it was the same excruciating tradition. Our family would get up at the crack of dawn, go to a Christmas tree farm and tromp across acres of snow in search of the perfect tree.
Hours later our feet would be freezing, but Mom would press on, convinced the tree of her dreams was, "just up ahead."
One year I snapped. "Mom, face it. The perfect tree doesn't exist. It's like looking for a man. Just be satisfied if you can find one that isn't dead, doesn't have too many bald spots and is straight."
Gary the Cactus will never find true love.
Female Cactus: "Gary, you need to quit being selfish. We’re cact-us."
Gary the Cactus: "Actually we’re cact-i."
Valentine Day sign at the local produce store:
I love you... from my head TO-MA-TOES!