*During sex*

Wife – *looking up* I thought I asked you to dust the ceiling fan.

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– I’m your son’s teacher and I’m calling to tell you that he may be a compulsive liar.
– And a damn good one. I don’t have any sons.


I tell women I can’t open that jar because I have a headache.


My son said he’d do something in a minute.

So far it’s been 185 days, 16 hours & 11 minutes but who’s counting.


I called my son’s school to see if they would take him a week early and apparently they “don’t do that” and I “need to stop calling.”


Ate a bowl of Captain Crunch Berries this morning. With blatant disregard for the roof of my mouth.

-thug life


[first date]
HER: I really like you
ME: I like you too
HER: So did you bring protection?
ME: *gesturing to my bodyguard* Yeah, this is Tony


[hits rock bottom]
rock bottom : *calls 911 for being assaulted*


[Bomb will explode in 26 seconds]
*googles “how to defuse a bomb”*
*clicks top result*
*it’s a 17-page slideshow.*
*an ad plays*


If you’re in a Mexican prison, “Jesus loves you” might not be very comforting words…