Don’t be sad about being single on Valentine’s Day, think of all the ppl in relationships that don’t know they’re also single
You Might Also Like
Me: they didn’t have cell phones when I was a kid
5: they also didn’t have cars
According to HR, putting a middle finger emoji at the end of my auto-reply before going on vacation, is apparently not acceptable.
Nutella. A delicious mix of nuts and umbrellas.
you: weird flex but ok
an intellectual: odd gloat but understandable nonetheless
me, a genius: peculiar boast but alas
Me: Let’s role play. You be a jogger out for a run, & I’ll be the body you stumble across.
Him: So you’re planning on just laying there, like always.
breaking into your house and inventorying your pantry so you know what you need the next time you go to costco
My son: little pig, little pig, let me in!
Me: Ok first of all, rude because, yes, I have been eating more lately, no need to get personal son
My son: say your line mummy!
Me: not by the hair of my ch- OK I’M NOT PLAYING ANYMORE
(God creating coyotes)
God: Make them look like dogs.
Angel: Exactly like dogs?
God: But with a meth problem.
We’d have serious problems if Peter Jackson ever became president. He’d look at World Wars I and II and see them as an unfinished trilogy.
They must have gotten it to go.
Remember to set your wireless bra to ‘airplane mode’ before take off.
*pops the hood*
“Looks like the timing nut is gone on yer muffler belt”
.. Umm r u sure you work here?
*lifts eye brow, moustache falls off*
me: *drinks coffee with protein powder, does bicep curls, flexes fingers*
pickle jar: oh oh
me: how do you say one in Spanish anyway
them: uno
me: no i don’t
I like talking to bartenders because they can’t go anywhere.
As it turns, all of those signs I drive by on roads and highways have words on them.
On a related note, my new contacts came in.
Me: GD potholes
My kids: WEEEEEEEEE
I can finish The Times’ crossword in under five minutes but I struggle to eat the whole paper
The enema of your enema is your friend!
~ Autocorrect wisdom
me before getting into birding: OMG SHUT UP BIRDS IT’S 5AM
me now: OMG SHUT UP CAROLINA WRENS, INDIGO BUNTINGS, AND TUFTED TITMICE IT’S 5AM
I have a migraine and my stomach hurts. A fast food burger and fries should help.
I was really getting my act together–eating right, exercising regularly, looking hot, feeling strong, and doing good work. Then I woke up.
*turns around in chair dramatically*
Hello…
*chair turns around again*
…I’ve been expecting you…
*again*
…, Repair-Man.
My retirement plan is to get hit by a bus. My pre-retirement plans involves eating a lot of cheeseburgers to become a bigger target.
What’s my type? Someone who is supportive. Someone who is warm. Someone I can just curl up and relax with. Wait I’m describing my bed again.
[travels back in time]
[accidentally kills Baby Charlie Chaplin]
The doctor removes the stethoscope from your chest. He seems flustered. “Well, it still sounds like moaning and the rattle of chains in a deep stone hole.”
He hands you a small wooden chest filled with rusty old keys. “Just keep swallowing these until one works.”
My sense of humour has been described as “oh god..” and “please stop, this is a funeral”.
Never let me in your house because I will do stuff like this
i don’t want to be the “main character” i actually want to be an extra who is there just to have fun and stand around while you deal with all the conflict