[fight scene – me and a murderer kick a gun across the room and grapple for it]

me: [reaching under couch] shit

murderer: let me try i have longer arms

me: you do not

murderer: do too. stand up

[we measure arm length]

me: wow

murderer: yeah i got like a 6’3” wingspan

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*Learns sign language to keep arguing with boyfriend while giving the silent treatment*


The wife asked me to bone the chicken then acts surprised when she catches me doing it


Who decided to call it “Emotional Baggage” and not “Griefcase”?


What if ants aren’t insects at all but are vehicles that even smaller insects drive to work?


Finally figured out the reason I look so bad in photos. It’s my face


Black bears smell up to 18 miles when hunting food.

I smell my neighbor’s barbecuing ribs and invite myself over.

It’s survival.


Oh, you wanna steal my identity? *hands you wallet and all important documents I can find* Have at ‘er, best of luck, my friend.

*runs away


Me: I need to go

Tequila: No stay, have a couple more

Me: I need to go to bed

Tequila: Shhhh just sleep on the floor, I got you


*makes graveyard even scarier by carving all the tombstones into shark fins*