Before sprinting towards the elevator, ask yourself, “Am I hot enough to make them hold the door?”
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I’m not saying I want to die choking on peanut butter, but that would be the only scenario where my friends can say I went out doing what I loved.
*brings a laser pointer to the Broadway showing of Cats and creates utter mayhem*
I don’t know why this driver threw his hands up and asked what I was doing. I thought it was pretty clear I was cutting him off.
Me: *trying to fill the void with food and booze*
Fellow Astronaut: THAT WAS 12 YEARS WORTH OF SUPPLIES!
Her: What’s your type?
Me, flirting: I don’t really have a type.
Her: *checks notes* I see this is your first blood transfusion.
[first day on a new job]
Me: I’ll admit. I’m a workaholic. I tend to bring my work home with me.
Zoo keeper: Put down the penguin.
I’m not flirting, I’m being friendly.
*gets on knees and undoes your belt*
I like to stand next to a stranger on the elevator and whisper, “I read what you said on the internet.”
SCHRÖDINGER: *Kneels down* Hey buddy, so… I have some news about your cat.
SON: Is it good news or bad news?
SCHRÖDINGER: Yes.
Customer: Why do you own a hot dog stand when you draw and write?
Me: Wanna buy my book?
Them: No.
Me: That’s why I own a hot dog stand.
Two wolves ? more like a hyena carcass and a dust bunny.
EXECUTOR OF MY WILL: I’m so sorry for your loss. Mr. Nadeau has requested he be mummified, but in Fruit Roll-Ups.
WIFE: *Knocks on coffin* Andrew. You have to stop doing this. Are you alive?
ME: *Muffled* No.
WIFE:
ME: *Muffled but sadder* Maybe.
Earth? yeah, I’d hit that -meteor
I left Wyoming because I got tired of scrolling all the way down to find my state.
I hate when my therapist “makes a note” because I know that means she’s gonna try and circle back … but she wildly underestimates my filibuster skills.
*me flirting
Me: Knock knock.
Psychic: Ha! Good one.
Older women aren’t afraid to ask for exactly what they want.
Doughnuts. I want doughnuts.
*entering first day of prison*
“Are you guys mad at me?”
New research in early toy-purchase psychology has found that the majority of parents subconsciously hope their children become xylophonists.
My credit score is a family of raccoons hissing over a McRib.
*Beethoven & orchestra take stage*
HECKLER: (chanting) Ode to Joy! Ode to Joy!
Beethoven: –we’re gonna play some new stuff
HECKLER: boooo
My son asked me where poo came from. I was a little uncomfortable but gave him an honest answer. He looked perplexed and stared at me for a minute then asked….and tigger???
Any sink has a garbage disposal if you push hard enough.
[looks into a mirror]
Well. That can’t be right.
16: They asked me for my email.
12: Email? That’s like something only moms use!
16: Ewww, I know!
*how my kids take a dig at me without even trying to take a dig at me
I waved to a man because I thought he waved at me.
Apparently he waved to an other woman. So to get out of the awkward situation I kept my hand up and a taxi pulled over and drove me to the airport. I am now in Poland starting a new life.
I feel kind of sad that in some countries children are starving and I’m over here eating spiders in my sleep like a god damn glutton.
If you see your ex, wrap your hands behind your neck and pretend you’re making out with someone. That’ll show him you’re still crazy AF.
If you listen carefully you can hear the sound of raindrops sighing. Really, you can hear almost anything if you’re high enough.