By tomorrow night America will be in a turkey induced coma.
On Friday…Canada attacks.
3-year-old: I need a scarf.
Me: No, you don’t.
3: To tie up bad guys.
She needs a scarf.
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Ironic… is having a coke machine reject your dollar bill for it being rolled up to many times.
Looking to marry a pharmacist. Looks and personality optional. Just don’t lose your job.
Are 19th Century menstrual pads called period pieces?
Coming soon to NBC: She’s a lawyer who, you guessed it, doesn’t play by the rules. And he’s a doctor who, right again, pees sitting down.
Is anyone gonna tell them?
Congratulations to all the people currently in a coma, well played.
Car trouble, miss? Allow me to squint, and posture heroically while staring at your labyrinthine engine as panic cascades through my spine.
“When I’m dead, I’d like you to buy a $9,000 box and throw it down a hole.”
If you start a conversation with “you’re gonna say I’m crazy” there’s nothing I can do but to congratulate you on your clairvoyance.