The limerick writers on Twitter
Can be justifiably bitter
The limited length
Is weakness, not strength
And throws our last lines down the sh
At age 40 you gain the capacity to fall totally chemically head over heels in love with a refrigerator.
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Adorable idea. Colleagues have been writing names on their food in the office fridge. I am currently eating a yoghurt called Debbie
writer: I’m so good at beginnings but never can finish strong
writers wife: *under her breath* ain’t that the truth
wife: I should have never let you take that morse code class
me: shhh *listening to the hail hit our roof* the storm is talking to me
Opened the back door and a tiny lizard fell from the sky. It’s either a sign, or the smallest plague ever.
[in bed, 6 AM]
Me: Good morning.
Me: Happy Easter.
Me: Guess who else is also Risen this morn-
Wife: GO AWAY
The only reason there’s a market for hammers is not because they go bad but because they grow legs and walk away.
*posts Social Security number on social media*
*hopes someone steals his identity and pays off his mortgage*
The plane starts going down. I say, “If we die, know that hat is hideous”. We all survive. Great Aunt Mildred hasn’t spoken to me since.
“Let’s do 5 sets of squats & then try lifting for an hour. It looks like you got out of shape after your dad died” ~ Really personal trainer