CDC: Stop that.
Woman: What are you taking out of your pocket?
Man: A knife. I’m a serial killer.
Woman: Oh thank God, I thought it was an engagement ring.
Her: Who was your first love?
H: What was she like?
M: She was little.
H: Are you talking about snacks?
M: [mouth full] Maybe.
I love all my family members and wouldn’t sell them at any price.
But just for the sake of conversation, give me a ballpark figure.
My January credit card bill, aka the Ghost of Christmas Past.
*turns up my TV to drown out the couple fighting next door
*hears the word “sex”
*turns down my TV
My supervisor said I’m worth my weight in gold so I’m eating these donuts to increase my value.
I’m a man of conviction, but no jail time.
Why aren’t there more Christmas songs about revenge?
I was a teenager when “Go to your room” was a punishment and not the same as saying “Go to your arcade/shopping mall/video chat room/infinite music and video library/recording booth/photo studio.”