Apparently the main job qualification for being a pirate was that you had to be named after a beard.

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Store Clerk: Happy holidays
Me (angrily): Merry…CHRISTMAS
Clerk (even angrier): SEASON’S GREETINGS
[we just start choking each other]


Turns out those miniature liquor bottles aren’t for babies and now my brother says I can’t be the God Mother.


My kids are very optimistic. Every glass they leave sitting around the house is at least half full.


“Pay attention, 007; this might look like an ordinary suitcase but, if you push this button, a handle comes out and you can wheel it.”


guard 1: choose your path wisely. one of us always lies and one of us alwa-

guard 2: AAAAAAHHH

guard 1: always screams

me: doesn’t that get annoying?

guard 1: *heavy sigh* no it’s actually super awesome


“If anyone knows a reason why these two should not marry, speak n-”


*ring bearer vomits*


Apparently, my office doesn’t think the women’s restroom needs a tampon disposal, so wrapped it up and put it in their suggestion box.


Unless you and your family were attacked by Bigfoot, then no, I don’t want to see your camping pictures.


You say drug dealer.

I say astute, urban entrepreneur embracing the booming chemical escapism market.


“I should probably start filling this thing out.”

-I say about my son’s baby memory book on his wedding day.