Just got my invitation to Lady Gaga’s wedding reception. I can choose between beef or chicken. Not for the meal, that’s the dress code.

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Zombies..stay away from junk people or you’ll gain a shit-ton of weight.


Me: *steps up to the plate, spits, adjusts cup, taps helmet*

Waiter: is there a problem


“Pick a card, any card, make sure you memorize it, now put it back with the rest”: me, with my wife at the Hallmark Store on Valentine’s Day


“Oh hey there, didn’t recognize you with your cap on,” I say flirtatiously to my toothpaste.


teacher: your son said you threatened to beat him?

me: at checkers!

teacher: and forced him to sleep outside?

me: we went camping!

teacher: and made up his peanut allergy so he couldn’t share your snickers?

me: yeah, that one I did


“wow this rap song is good I wonder who this is”
*waits literally 4 seconds*
“oh there look at that he said his name how convenient”


Sometimes when I’m drunk, I put on a trench coat, lurk around the shadows and pretend I’m the host from Unsolved Mysteries


So we agree when the zombies come we feed em the teenagers first, right?