I get it dogs, I want to scream F-bombs every time the doorbell rings too.
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“Dude.” “Dude.” “Dude.” “Dude.” “Dude.” “Dude.” “Dude.” “Dude.” “Dude.” “Dude.” “Dude.” “Dude.” – crickets (translated)
pet owner’s tip: glue the very tip of your cat’s tail to the center of their back to make a convenient cat-carrying handle.
I have a colonoscopy today. Yesterday, I started my prep. Haven’t ate anything in over 24 hours and drank all the laxative. It’s been a long 24 hours so far of just hanging out in my bathroom.
Just checked my phone and realized my colonoscopy is actually July 12th and not June 12th…..
I hate myself
me: bye bye miss american pie
miss american pie: “bye-bye”? what are you, four years old?
me: this is why i’m leaving. you’re a mean lady
Girlfriend: “I regret getting you that blender for your birthday”
Me drinking a pop tart: “why??”
“My dream is to create something that both dogs and fraternity brothers will enjoy chasing with equal vigor.” — inventor of the frisbee
I’m wearing the tie I got married in more than 20 years ago and I don’t want to brag but… it still fits.
Give us this day our daily internet validation
You think people who drink the energy drinks would have enough energy to put the cans in the bin rather than on the ground.
Become a parent, so you can be accused of “using up all the internet” when Fortnite glitches for a millisecond.
I’m cleaning out the attic if anyone needs a mint condition box and user manual for a cordless phone I donated to Goodwill 13 years ago.
Which herbal tea goes best with heroin?
Every so often, I try to fornicate a large word into conversation, even if I’m not sure what it means.
Here’s why I’m opposed to pilots being obligated to wear boxing gloves for flights:
-Cost of buying the gloves might be passed on to customers
-Pilot loses gloves? Flight gets delayed
-A passenger wearing boxing gloves could be mistaken for the pilot and ordered to fly the plane
Are you questioning my vocabulary skills, pal? Cause you are gonna get punched right in the plethora
Barber: ok that will be $900
Chewbacca: (chewbacca noise)
Son: What is wrong with those people?
Me: Stop staring. They’re indigenous to Wal-Mart. We are the outsiders here.
In public
4: (loudly) Mummy, I stroked your back hair!
Me: Yes, you stroked THE BACK OF MY HAIR
The worst part of eating dessert is when it’s interrupted by the nagging thought that it’s not healthy for you. So I eat really fast and beat the thought completely.
Meet Melissa. She is very obviously a Catfish and she clearly did not check my Instagram profile before messaging me.
[Party]
Her: *Nervous* I don’t know anybody
Him: It’s ok I’ll introduce you *into mic* hailing from Detroit & weighing in at I dunno 180lb
Her : Let me see your big stuff baby.
Me: *sends a pic of my bills*
i used to store stuff in my bra bc i hated carrying a purse. this one time i was making out with a guy n he unhooked my bra and a bunch of shit clunked onto the floor. he stopped and was like “what is that?” and i was like “don’t worry about it” and he was like “is that a knife?”
Please go back into your caves. I was wrong about it being safe to come out.
Alien Leader: “Your species is too dumb and sad to take over. We’re just gonna leave.”
Me: “More like alie-outs.”
Alien Leader: “On second thought…”
*zaps me dead with lasers*
Whole world: “That’s fine, no hard feelings.”
We got in the car, and my husband said we’re gonna do a quick stop at Costco. I didn’t even do my hair! If you’re gonna take me on a date, please tell me first. I’m so mad rn. Smh I’m gonna be eating my churro looking like I belong at Walmart.
god I wish I was the person I believed I could be when I bought all this produce
*thumb wrapped in giant bandage*
CW: Oh my God, what happened?
Me: Never challenge a hitchhiker to a thumb war.
here go my impression of dealing with any client in any capacity ever
CLIENT: how much do u charge?
YOU: its 1 dollar per glorf
CLIENT: oh thats very reasonable. ok i have 3 glorfs. so how much is that?
YOU: 3 dollars
CLIENT: WHY SO MUCH????
NOW I AM CALLING THE POLICE!!
“Leave the peach cobbler in the kitchen alone,” mother would say, going upstairs.
But I couldn’t help myself. I sneaked in and watched him. Watched him make his stupid little peach shoes, taunting.
“Nobody’s going to wear those,” I’d say. “They’re stupid.”
But on he worked.