The girl next door looks over at me, then her phone, then makes a disgusted look on her face.
I think she’s just found my twitter account
MONSTER: What is my name?
“We’ll call you…Frankenstein”
MONSTER: But that is your name
“Yeah, people won’t make a big deal of it”
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Wife: I’m pissed!
Me: still or again?
A robot steals your job. It hurts, but that’s how the economy works. Nothing personal. The robot starts texting your wife.
Superman: I got this
Batman: I’ll help
S: Look, you just slow me down
B: I’m a detective
B: I have batarangs
S: Do you hear yourself?
The only way I’d get within six feet of some people is if I’m standing on their grave.
Body: we’re exhausted. We’re going to fall asleep so easily.
Brain: you adorable idiot.
*putting wrinkle cream on my crow’s feet*
HOLD STILL, MR. VANDERBEAK!
“I’m the world champion of hearing,” I lied to the girl at the bar. 20 minutes later the real world champion burst in and hit me in the jaw
The first rule of Swim Club is don’t talk about Swim Club for at least 30 minutes after eating.
This transition of power reminds me of when my grandma turned over Thanksgiving duties to my mom and the night ended with police showing up.