[interview for CIA]
Your résumé says you’re a master in hand-to-hand wombat. Is that a typo or-
*I’ve already thrown a wombat at his face*
COWORKER: Thanks for your help on that project. You’re a peach!
ME: I am a peach! I’m round, I’m fuzzy, and according to my urologist, I have a HUGE stone inside me!
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The problem with finding people who accept me for who I am is that I question their judgment
i think a group of white people should be called a brunch.
[Conditioning my hair in the shower]
Me: *rings bell*
My hair: *salivates*
“how much for your finest dollar?”
What idiot called it a transplant and not re-organ-izing?
Shout out to Marco Polo for inventing finding people
4-year-old: *looks at our pig* Which pig is she?
Me: What do you mean?
4: Is her house made of bricks or sticks?
[cuts open a gender reveal cake and several black cats pop out]
Oh hell yes we’re having a witch!
One time I microwaved my lunch at work and my coworker said “That smells spicy! What is that–is that salt?” And when I was speechless she followed up with “Is it pepper?”