When a patron comes into the library the Saturday after Thanksgiving and asks “What’s the right way to cook a turkey,” I know I’m being asked not to provide practical information but rather to get involved in a heated family dispute
I used to work at McDonald’s and we only told ugly people that the ice cream machine was broken
So I have bad news if you were ever denied ice cream
Cheers to all who skipped that one dish at Thanksgiving because you just didn’t trust the person who brought it.
In my 20s: jingle all the way
In my 40s: jingle til around six thirty
Like shark attacks on humans, it’s actually extremely rare. The majority of antique, porcelain headed dolls aren’t interested in murdering people.
I offered my nephew a donut and he said “no thanks, I’m not hungry rn” and I don’t think this little shit knows how donuts work.
You can’t stop 80s kids. We were able to walk on sunshine, dance on the ceiling, shock the monkey, walk like an Egyptian, cut footloose, live on a prayer, burn down the house, whip it, rock the kasbah and still had time to wang chung tonight.
The postman told me he was off to Spain tomorrow. I asked if he was going to Parcelona. He didn’t even smile
I love how some stores don’t even bother hiding that they sell fakes. I respect the hell out of a shop that has Professor Martins front and center. Yes please I will take one pair of Air Georges.
To be honest, given a few tries I think I could do brain surgery.
Me: yeah so I think that Mario didn’t even care about saving the princess, he just really hated turtles
Game theory professor: w- what
The best part of being a bomb technician is that you can never have a bad day at work
The worst part of being a bomb technician is that you can never have a bad day at work.
*at a party*
peter: jesus keeps double dipping his chips. should we say something?
paul: we all saw him walk on water the other day. he brought a guy back from the dead last week. he seems to be in command of some pretty scary powers but, sure, go tell him to stop double dipping.
Me: “Go to bed, the cows are already asleep in the field.”
Son: “So what?”
Me: “It’s pasture bedtime.”
Anyone wanna buy 7 gently used pies?