Cats playing poker makes more sense. Dog’s tails would be a tell.
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I have precisely ZERO idea what people are doing when they inspect inside their egg boxes at the supermarket. But for 20 odd years I’ve dutifully opened the box, nodded appreciatively, and then put my eggs in the trolley without the faintest idea what the hell I’m doing or why.
We are at the stage with our 3 year old where every night features a greased pig contest where he gets naked and then tears around the house singing, “Run, Run, as fast as you can. You can’t catch me I’m the gingerbread man.”
ME: we can do this
GOOGLE SMART CAR: we can’t clear the bridge
ME: *mashes ‘im feeling lucky’ button*
I think it’s cool when websites don’t show what a shirt looks like on a person. Wow it looks great folded up floating in the Great Void, that’s exactly how I am going to wear it.
Like a crackhead being chased on COPS, but it’s me sprinting from the shed in flip-flops holding a can of wasp spray.
*travels back in time*
*follows Albert Einstein*
*waits for him to trip*
*yells “Way to go, Einstein!”*
*returns satisfied to present*
When I tickle my imaginary friend, people think Im casting spells
Misery loves company,
and apparently that’s why my parents invite me over every Thanksgiving weekend.
My husband is out of surgery and in recovery. What was the first thing my drug induced sweetheart said to me? That he loved me? That I was beautiful? That he missed me?
Nope.
Mashed potatoes. That’s what he said. Mashed potatoes. Get me some mashed potatoes.
medusa: look into my gaze
me:
dwayne johnson: did it do anything?
I wish forks had three prongs instead of four. I’d feel so powerful eating with a miniature trident. I want to dominate my food, not give it acupuncture.
Magician: an ordinary deck of cards right?
Guy in front row: that’s a ham.
Magician: [whispers to assistant] get eagle eyes out of here.
Twitter is like the tenth time you’ve opened the fridge and there still isn’t anything good in it.
My boyfriend says I’m like a robot in bed so I’m basically a sex machine.
Her (seductively): Anything special you want tonight for your birthday?
Me: You know what I like in bed, baby.
Her:
Me: *winks*
Her: *leaves the ceiling fan on*
Sheriff *standing over another exsanguinated body* Got anything?
FBI Profiler: The unsub is a male, 600-900 years old; is originally from Europe; shuns religious idols; is sensitive to light and has a taste for human blood.
Dracula *listening*: Holy sheet, dees guy ees good.
I tripped going up the escalator and fell down the stairs for like 20 minutes.
My therapist puts her toilet paper roll on upside down, yet somehow I’m the crazy one?
Think you’re a tough guy?
Go eat a package of Oreos in the middle of a crowded gym.
I remember when all this was farmland!
*gestures toward internet*
“I can’t feel my legs”
–mermaids
The only thing longer than a minute left on the microwave is a minute on the treadmill.
People would probably like hospitals better if they had water slides & the nurses were strippers
clark, the office penguin, raised his fin and voted “no” on implementing a “casual friday”.
Black licorice tastes like Satan himself made candy and then it expired.
That’s not fat. It’s bonus content.
oh i’d definitely choose flight over invisibility. i’d fly everywhere! to the living room, the bedroom. back to the living room. everywhere
When I’m at the mall, I carry a purse around so people think I have a girlfriend
*T-Rex stubs his toe*
OUCH I’M SO MAD. JUST… MAD. I’M…“Angry? Agitated? Irritated? Anno-”
SHUT UP THESAURUS NO ONE ASKED YOU.