What I really need is a woman who loves me for my money but doesn’t understand math.
I call my bedroom ‘The place where the magic happens’ because one night a guy locked me in a box and tried to saw me in half.
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Doctor: *taps knee with mallet* feel that?
Doctor: or this? *jabs toe with a pin*
Doctor: Just as I suspected. This is my leg
“He sure seems like a nice young man” is Grandma-speak for “I’d totally hit that.”
I only have eyes for you. I got them from the morgue. I’ll probably get arrested.
What idiot called her a Hot Indian Girl and not a Bomb Bae
Cop: Know why I stopped you?
“You heard the song I was playing?”
Cop: Yes I did, and now HERE I AM
“ROCK YOU LIKE A HURRICANE”
You like me?
*has a conversation with you where I’m completely me.
*never hears from you again.
Right then. That’s sorted.
1. Put “Out of Order” sign on a staircase.
2. Wait until someone says, “Stairs can’t be out of order!” and uses them.
3. Release the bees.
New children’s book I’m working on: “Nobody poops but you, you disgusting little freak”.
I wish my ears would visibly lay back like a cats when I’m pissed off so people would know when to leave me the hell alone.