I have a huge gash in my forehead. I’m going to assume I got up in the middle of the night, fought some crime, and went back to bed.
“Hello, my name’s Drew and I’m an addict”
“Sir, this is a cheese counter”
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Interviewer: tell me a little about yourself.
Me: I’d rather not. I kinda want this job.
I use the word “thingy” when I cant think of the word:
Me- Are you picking up the “thingy’s?”
Wife- …you mean your kids?
Me- Dont judge me
Her: Explain Twitter to me
Me: Know what sharks did to the Indianapolis’ crew when it sank?
Me: Much the same, just less compassion
when u get caugt lying on ur resume but u still try to convince the interviewer that ur qualified for the job
My brain forces me to relive traumatic moments over and over and over and over, but it won’t tell me where I left my laptop charger.
*travels back in time to kill Hitler as a baby* *becomes known as time-traveling baby murderer & history’s greatest monster*
A good business strategy is to have a donut-shaped meeting room table that rotates around you at 200 rpm as everyone struggles to cling on and you sit in the middle, laughing
“You a cop?”
UNDERCOVER COP: No.
“So you wouldn’t mind if I … threw these donuts away?”
UC: *sweats profusely*
“Magic mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?”
Cops: he knows we can see him from this side, right?