you, an idiot: It’s pronounced worcestershire.
me, an intellectual and foodie: Actually, it’s pronounced worcestershire.
[Calling guy I met in bar in ’91]
Me: Remember you said “Call me any time?” Well, I could really use a sitter tonight.
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[At the therapists]
Me: Doc, I think I’m finally over my fear of the supernatural.
Therapist: That’s the spirit!
Me: Holy shit! Where?
A British person, unable to stand upright due to the gust, leaves and twigs smashing into their head, with eyebrows blown clean from their face and sore eyes watering with tears quickly whipped away by the gale, is unable to resist uttering:
[I open my lunchbox to find flask of whisky]
But that means….
[Cut to my 4 y/o opening her lunchbox to find a flask of whisky]
[me as a gynaecologist]
*pronouncing womb like it rhymes with bomb*
detective: lot of mysterious break ins lately
chief: anything we can do?
detective: sure, lock homes
TRUMP: I’d like to apologize to hillary
MODERATOR: umm ok
HILLARY: umm ok
TRUMP: I brought a gift *hands her a galaxy note 7*
An FBI profiler once told me there are very few psychopaths out there.
I booped his nose and said, “I beg to differ.”
This dude forgot to put tomatoes on my sandwich. Thanks, “artist”. Now I have nothing to pick off.
Me: I must warn you, I’m like an animal in bed.
Her: That’s fine by me!
*burrows under the covers and falls asleep at the foot of the bed*