*gets woken up by a tap on my shoulder*
“Daddy, how do you get yogurt out of the toaster when it’s done toasting?”
The year is 2073. My wife and I rest in side by side burial plots. Waking up in the middle of the night our 57yo son, for reasons beyond his understanding, digs a horizontal hole between us and gets in.
His head near his mother and his feet kicking my corpse, he sleeps.
You Might Also Like
Autocorrect wants to capitalize bacon, out of respect.
I want an app that tells me when someone is thinking about me while having sex with someone else.
“Hey, will you join us in our street protest?”
I actually love streets
I’m on the snake diet. It’s the one where you lie on the floor all day, eat 25% of your body weight, and hiss at anyone who comes near you.
Being a parent to a teenager is basically like being an unpaid, under appreciated Uber driver.
They should give Martin Shkreli a six-month prison sentence, and then at the last second, say, “Actually, that just went up 500%.”
Netflix and we’ll have to call my ex to get the password.
I’m either going to get a tattoo today or do something real crazy like clean my closet.