Scientists please just tell us when the world is gonna end so I can stop working out
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went to Confession and also confessed the sins of the guy next in line, hope he pays it forward
(scientists naming weird spiny thing in a bush)
Scientist 1: This thing sucks
Scientist 2: Yeah!
S1: It’s hogging all the hedges!
S2: Wait.
I’ll have enough candy left for trick or treaters tonight… if there are only 8 of them.
And they come in the next 15 minutes.
At least six times I day I stare at my desk and wonder which object will injure me enough to get me out of work but not hurt that much.
Me: Let’s go to the store.
5 yo: Why?
M: For food.
5: Why?
M: So we can eat.
5: Why?
M: To stay alive.
5: Why?
M: I have no idea.
My dad caught me smoking meat once and forced me to smoke an entire pack of pork chops. Now I run a successful butcher shop, thanks Dad.
Pain medication got me itching to operate heavy machinery in the dark
Is there anything more embarassing than saying you are logging out for awhile only to return ten minutes later? No.
Will that stop me from doing it? Also no.
*Frantically checks the time*
OMG I THINK I’M LATE oh wait that was yesterday
*flirting with a guy at work*
Soooooo, what do you do for a living?
Me: I’m in charge of the shopping cart when my wife and I go to the grocery store
Cashier: …why are you telling me this?
You had me at Whipped Cream Vodka.
If ever a burglar entered my house, I take comfort in knowing they’d never get past the 17 pairs of shoes in the hallway.
I would totally do this if I had any desire to grow ghost peppers.
10-year old son: How’s it been being a political scientist with all this political stuff going on?
Me: [Stares blankly into the distance.]
[Old west saloon owner]: make it so the floorboards don’t creak when regular patrons walk in but do creak when a mysterious stranger walks in
Carpenter: …what
For the umpteenth time- no, I can’t count
*answering phone* Mom you know instead of calling me you can just text, it’s easier.
*gets text from Mom* It’s your mother. Call me.
Snoop Dogg; Shake what’cha momma gave you.
Me; Ummm… ok.
<vigorously shakes a frozen lasagna>
I’m 37 and from the Midwest, every man I know is named Matthew, I’m going to need you to be more specific.
-Me when my mom say she saw Matthew today.
We’ve now reached the match the lid to the storage container portion of this year’s Thanksgiving feast
Hot waitresses give me anxiety. I don’t need some babe rolling up on me while I’m jamming food in my face.
“WHAT DO WE WANT?!”
“SELF-CONFIDENCE!”
“WHEN DO WE WANT IT?!”
*everyone breaks eye contact and starts mumbling*
“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
[bar]
CUSTOMER: Barman
BARMAN: Sir?
C: This beer tastes like piss
[further down the bar]
BEAR GRYLLS: I’ll have what he’s having
[First day as a plumber]
Boss: What’s wrong?
Me: *tearing up* This is nothing like Mario.
Those plastic bags in the produce department that are so hard to get open are designed to keep your ego in check. Its intentional.
Somebody call the cops.
If you do not stop arguing I WILL turn this car around and around and around creating a time vortex teleporting me back to before I had kids
I never have road rage, but if you have crooked bumper stickers, it’s on.