Ok. Seriously, stop feeding the gulls.

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I’ve finally reached the age where I can’t function without my glasses…especially if they’re empty.


I feel sorry for the Phillip whose head inspired the screwdriver.


My son just paced back and forth dictating his letter to Santa like a high-powered CEO.

Forget Prada, the Devil wears Ironman pyjamas.


(1:35pm) God: Yo Abraham
(1:37pm) Abe: sup
(1:38pm) God: Need u to kill ur son
(1:42pm) Abe: k

(4:02pm) God: jk lol
(4:10pm) God: u there?


Aliens: take me to your leader

Me: Hey babe, is it okay if we have company?


*Looks up from pestle and mortar “Phew! Powdering this baby is hard!”


My doctor advised me to ease back into my exercise regime. So, today I plan on driving past the gym slowly.


why do people romanticize the 1950s? like calm down, we still have milkshakes and racism