I’m up for any New Year’s Eve party as long as it starts at six, ends by eight, and doesn’t require real pants.

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Olive Garden is appropriately named given that an olive garden is exactly where even Jesus was disappointed.


[in the car with the wife]

*I take both hands off the wheel*

Wife: Thank you, that was making it very hard for me to drive


6: I’m hungry

Me: Well it’s almost dinner time so no snacks right now

6: If it’s almost dinner why aren’t you in the kitchen?

Husband: Oh no


Me: will I find a wife
Fortune teller: no
Me: u didnt do the thing with the cards
Fortune teller [flips one card, maintains eye contact]: no


My neighbors headboard kept me up last night so I yelled,” the guy last night made her scream louder.” Then it got quiet..


Wife: *on phone* our son is on the ceiling, I think he’s possessed

Me: by Spider-Man?

Wife: his head just spun around

Me: *eyes narrow* Owl-Man


Can’t, I’m fighting over the space heater with the cat


*spins in chair* Ah, Mr. Bond. I’ve been expect- *cat sitting in my lap freaks out and scratches the shit out of me*


I guess I prefer Subway because they make me feel like I’m making the healthy decision when I order a loaf of bread with 18 meatballs on it.


Apparently, if you jump out of a plane wearing parachute pants, it doesn’t break your fall at all. But you can carry about a hundred combs.