Your Daily Dose Of Unadulterated Funny Tweets

16- *bragging about his mustache*
12- Mom’s mustache is way better than yours
Me-

The Bangles neglected to mention Manic Monday is followed by Trauma Tuesday, Wacko Wednesday, and Therapy Thursday.

no, autocorrect, i am not searching for dishwasher safe Tupperware kids

Pearly whites? I assume you mean my legs.

date: so how are you?

me: I’m doing good! how are-

guy behind me: you mean you’re doing “well”

date: who the hell is that

me: I told you I had a corrections officer

Daughter singing: In your hand… In your hand.
Me: Zombie? It’s in your HEAD.
D: No! The car keys you’ve been looking for the last 10 mins.

*a few seconds before a spider jumps on me. ”

“Let’s not fight.”

Son, your mom and I have been fighting a lot lately and we have decided that *dad piledrives mom into the coffee table* we’re gonna go pro.

Travis Kelce is living the dream of every unknown comedian rn. Having hordes of people share your old tweets and being like, “this guy is hilarious”

Friend: I’m just not sure if she’s into me.

Me: Try faking your death. If she brings a date to your funeral, I’d say that’s a hard no.

To some, it’s known as “soda.” Some call it “pop.” Some even order it as “coke” or “cola.” The spicy bubble brown juice goes by many names

[at an umpire’s funeral]

me: i’m so sorry. how did he die?

mourner: STEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-ROKE!!

Movie idea:

A slasher film that ends with the heroine gloating as she hands the killer over to the cops, but then she realizes her car is parked over in the same direction. They all have to walk together and make small talk and it’s super awkward.

If u luv sumthin set it free
*releases 2yr old into the wild*
Good luck son
*sobbing*
STOP FOLLOWING ME! GO ON,GET OUT OF HERE
*throws rocks

Dear Televised Sports Injury,

We saw it the first time.

Thanks.

Me: Pull my finger.
Doctor: Ok.
[finger detaches]
Me: AAAAHHHHH!
Doctor: AAAAHHHHH!!!
ME: haha j/k that’s actually why I came in.

Him: Your profile said you were Catholic.

Her: *apartment filled with cats* Maybe you read it too fast.

(Me playing guitar)

3: Daddy what’s this song called?

Me: Going Nowhere.

3: I know that but what’s this song called?

Burned by a 3yo.

She wasn’t quite sure
Brad was a bit older
He seemed kind of shy
But she was much bolder
She asked him to dinner
“I’d love to” he told her
When she kissed him good night
Things started to smolder
But she ended it there
And gave the cold shoulder
When she got a ring
She’d be Anna

DOCTOR: congratulations it’s a baby-
ME: giraffe?
DOCTOR: what? No. It’s a boy. A human boy.
ME: *looks at wife* you lied to me

Pringles, it’s time to widen the can. Your target demographic isn’t thin-wristed.

My pre-nup will indicate that I’m allowed to unplug your life support system should my phone need charging.

If you’ve never seen your woman truly pissed at you, it’s obvious you’ve never used her sewing scissors to cut paper.

6YO: Can I eat a cookie?

Me: Finish your dinner first

6YO: My stomach is full except for a circle shaped space

Dog: Dude, I’m your best friend.
Me: You shit on the carpet today.
Dog: *sighs* Look around you, Fitz. I’m still your best friend.

bears call children lost in the woods screamy appetizers. you can take my word on this

Forget hobbies and and interests, dating apps should require people to share their Amazon order histories.

Not sure which is more mortifying, the dog bringing your dirty panties to the repairman or the repairman balling them up and throwing them for her.

Me? Well, I just spent 5 minutes examining a worrisome mole before it fell off because it was a junior mint .

Facebook friend: If you can’t handle me at my worst, then you-
SHUT UP, SHANNON. YOU’RE *ALWAYS* AT YOUR WORST.