If you read the instructions carefully, the first step to making any microwavable lunch is to throw away the box and dig it out of the trash
Me: I’m inviting Doug to watch the game
Wife: I thought you were mad at Doug bc he still hasn’t returned our shop vac
Me: I’m over it
[halftime, 2 beers later]
TV: 🎶Like a good neighbor, state farm is there🎶
Me: you know what else a good neighbor does, Doug?
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Maybe if I answer the door naked the pizza delivery guy won’t realize I paid with Monopoly money.
me: *tries to befriend another human being*
another human being: oh, no thank you
ME: We should totally go Dutch.
HIM: I wasn’t raised that way.
ME: *sadly looking at my wooden shoes* Okay.
“Give me pizza or give me death…” my history loving son’s version of a threat.
Pregnancy is so weird. It’s, like, “Who’s that in my belly? It’s Brad. He’s going to drive a used Buick one day.”
Ouija boards are officially obsolete, now that the dead can read messages addressed to them on Facebook.
Nothing makes me feel more beautiful than when the woman waxing my eyebrows asks if I want my moustache done too.
Me: I’d kill for a body like that
Them: well by monitoring your calorie intake and daily exercise you c-
Me: yeah I’d rather kill
“Do you ever get the feeling you’re being watched?”
[from the bushes]