first day in the secret service. all the guys hazed me into kissing the president
You Might Also Like
Wife: You’re so predictable
Me: Yeah? I bet u didn’t see this coming
*I go to throw water on her but shes already wearing a poncho*
Me: Damn
Her : You hang up first.
Me : *click*
*Biden climbs tree*
“Joe, you better get outta that fuckin tree.”
*Obama revs chainsaw*
I’m not dumb Barack. That’s way too heavy to throw.
A couple of our wine glasses broke, and I bought slightly smaller ones to replace them.
I don’t think my wife has ever been this mad at me before.
Setting a teachers salary based on student performance is akin to paying a zookeeper based on how well the monkeys are behaving.
I was musing to someone about the irony of being a surgeon and having a phobia about touching raw meat (especially chicken). I don’t have a problem touching raw human though.
Anyway, thats how I learned people don’t like being referred to as raw human.
men don’t eject their eyes from their sockets and yell awooga anymore
ok so i’m watching gladiator and the romans are white people with british accents. ok hollywood. alright.
Is Lent nearly over? I don’t know how much longer I can hold my breath.
My best friend is marrying my husband’s best friend. What could possibly go wrong?
The Sheep human Contest in France. This is the festival I need right now.
me: i feel terrible
my doctor who is also a cat: have you been sprinting around the house at 2am and yelling for no reason?
me: uh, not really
my doctor who is also a cat: [scribbling in my chart] hmm yeah that’s not good
This message is invisible.
Only people who suffer from
lack of sex can read this.
screw you
I want to walk down the street with my friends and be feared and not have people assume we’re probably on our way to a buffet.
[Jr. Biology class, girls in jumpsuits burst in]
OK, who’s ready for fun? We’re The Photosynthesisters & we’re gonna talk 2 U about PLANTS!
DATING TIP: When your crush texts you, win them over by playing hard to get. Throw your phone in a river. Change your name. Move to Belgium.
The ghost of the girl murdered in my apartment in the 1920s would scare me a lot more if she didn’t keep queuing up Paw Patrol on Netflix.
Me (internally): Please say bedridden, please say bedridden…
Dr: You look great! See you again for a check up next year.
Me: sigh
Mom asked me what I was drinking the first time I got drunk and I said “breast milk” and now she’s not talking to me.
ME: All my life I’ve been judged. Quit doing drugs! Don’t sleep around!
JUDGE: We have the murder weapon.
ME: Again, with the judging.
[i bite into an apple and a swarm of bees comes flying out]
“this gives me an idea for a restaurant”
Me: “My wish is have a nice quiet retirement in a little house by the water.”
Genie:
Safe travels to all the parents heading out to buy the batteries they didn’t know they needed.
911? I’m a man trapped in a woman’s body!
“That’s not exactly an emergency.”
Oh. Huh. Ok.
*Tries door in Statue of Liberty again*
“How often do you floss?”
Every day
“How often do you lie?”
Every six months
Bad news.
Jim Morrison is dead.
My wife will be like, “gut reaction, yes or no?”
And then show me two shades of beige paint I can’t even tell are different.
I wish more modern politics was about trying to stop the fulfilment of an ancient prophesy.
My grandad used to swear by refrigerators. And televisions. In fact, he was probably the most foul-mouthed member of staff Comet ever had.