mugger: gimme your wallet
me: me or her?
mugger: I don’t care
me: *looks at date* I mean I did pay for dinner
I bet chickens have mixed emotions about Thanksgiving, because they’re safe for a day, but why aren’t they good enough for a holiday meal?
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Her: is he trained?
Wife: of course!
Me[from the couch] QUIT TRYING TO SELL ME ON CRAIGSLIST
People say I have a dry sense of humor. So when you hate everyone the word to describe that is dry now I guess.
*jumps on stage and snatches up mic and screams*
LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOR, LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOR!
*gets escorted out of church*
there are three types of writers;
1) those who plot their books
2) those who discover their plot along the way
3) those who know what will happen but their book is a bit feral still, needs a bath, has bitten and will bite again
My husband leaves water glasses lying around like he’s preparing for an invasion of water sensitive aliens.
It’s confusing for me too, but I don’t need your money so you’re going to have to be a nice guy if this is going to work out.
Sorry I used your baby’s bald head as a lipstick blotter.
‘I like the smell of your meat’ may not have been the best greeting to the hot waiter at the BBQ joint I picked for lunch.
Fitbits are just like Tamagotchis, except the stupid little creature you have to keep alive is yourself.