The Lord alone–not science–will determine how many chickens can fit inside my motorcycle sidecar.

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I don’t have many enemies because I’m funny and sweet and they all died in mysterious fires.


Sagittarius: A bad situation gets worse this week when your family refuses to pay the ransom.


Me: who called it a prison cell air duct instead of a convent
Nun: that’s not funny
Escaped Prisoner (hiding in the air duct): it kinda is


My kid sneezes and if you aren’t quick enough with “bless you” he says, “don’t worry I’m okay” in the most condescending tone ever uttered by a 2 year old


[Couples’ Counselling]

Her: If he doesn’t stop talking in corporate cliches I’m leaving him

Me (in tears): Please don’t downsize our unit!


Her: I’m a chiropractor
Me: *under breath* whoa I thought they were extinct


“moon all gone! moon all gone!” is my toddler’s terrifying new way of saying good morning


don’t hate robert altman’s 1992 satirical comedy “the player” hate david fincher’s 1997 psychological thriller “the game”