It’s the “roaring 20s” again so I’m going to take inspiration from the Great Gatsby and continue to not have read any books since high school
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I feel like maybe if God didn’t spend all his time helping people win at sports and awards shows he’d have time to fix some shit
Them: Describe the joys of parenthood in 2 words.
Me: The what?
“I hate fancy restaurants. I can never pronounce anything on the menu”
-me, drunk, holding the Waffle House menu upside down
March is coming in like a lamb. Slaughtered and roasted with a nice mint sauce, mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables.
Me: This guy *slides photo across table* I want you to shoot him in the leg
Hitman: This is a photo of you
Me: My wife wants me to try zumba
*stops lecturing woman in white lab-coat and turns to camera*
“When my doctor first told me I was a ‘mansplainer’, I had a lot of answers.”
I love British antique shows because every piece has a rich history and the Brits are so blasé about it.
“Do you know anything about this teapot?”
“My grandfather used it to beat a Nazi to unconsciousness while doing espionage work during WWII.”
“Mmm-hmm. Beautiful etching.”
I sign off with “kind regards” but secretly all my regarding is malicious
My kids won’t stop fighting over a balloon in case you’re looking to pinpoint the beginning of my supervillain origin story
being on Twitter right now is like playing the violin on the titanic except we are also making fun of the iceberg and the iceberg is getting genuinely mad
how i look when they bring my wings at pluckers.
I’ve seen enough movies to know that the first step to stealing a car is jamming a screwdriver into the ignition.
me: when is the last time you had a bath?
4: tomorrow
At Dunkin Donuts-
8: Can I get choc. milk?
Me: We have that at home.
8: We have coffee at home too…
Me: WHO TAUGHT YOU LOGICAL THINKING?!
I want you to know that whatever problems you’re having I’m hear to ‘like’ them. 🙃
Spotify keeps trying to automatically lower my volume. I’m jamming Fireboy’s album fgs, to hell with my eardrums!!!
Maybe I’ll make pancakes for breakfast.
*decides to open Twitter
Maybe I’ll make pancakes for dinner.
interrogator: you leave us no choice. time for good cop, jazz cop
suspect: you mean bad cop?
interrogator: no
suspect: i confess.
If Billy Joel rewrote “We Didn’t Start The Fire” about 2020, it would be a 37 hour long song.
I’v been catfishing my best friend Dave for the last 3 weeks. He’s gunna pay me that $50 he owes me or I’m showing these emails to his wife.
me irl
wtf is this choreography 😭😭😭
HER: so what do you do?
ME: i’m a mathemagician
HER: you mean a mathematician?
ME: [divides by zero] no
I disabled the reminder beep on my microwave months ago, because what kind of idiot forgets food. Tonight I found my would’ve been breakfast burrito in the microwave. So…yeah.
[yelling over club music] has anyone seen my tamagotchi
GF: So we just wanted to say we’re engaged!
HER DAD [looks at me] you should have asked me first
ME: You’re not really my type though
They’re called violin bows not fiddle sticks.
captcha starting to give us tasks like we’re in a saw movie or something.
I’m no body language specialist but I would interpret Gary Busey’s smile as saying, “I may or may not have eaten your parakeet.”
To my friends: You smile, I smile, you hurt, I hurt, you cry, I cry, you jump off a bridge. I’m gonna miss your e-mails.