My family crest is a hand protectively shielding a slice of pie and a Latin motto that translates as “I’m still working on it.”
I hate it when I’m naked and all lathered up with soap and then run out of quarters at the car wash.
*holds out bucket of fried chicken to passing marathon runners*
What’s that, Lassie? Timmy’s in trouble? His marriage is falling apart? He’s having an existential crisis? I’ve got my own problems, Lassie.
Jiminy Cricket: [singing] Always let your conscience be your g–
Me: *sprays insect repellent*
Of course I consume a lot of carbs. I don’t want to get decarbohydrated.
Dad was probably bluffing when he said he’d turn the car around after driving 198 miles of a 200 mile trip but WE COULDN’T TAKE THAT CHANCE.
Sorry I overreacted when we both reached for the last piece of pecan pie. I had no idea a fork could penetrate so far into a human forearm.
[meeting]
Boss: What do you think?
Me: I think we need to get out in front of this. If we’re not on top of it, it will roll over us and we’ll never get out from under it. Can everybody get behind that?
Boss: You’re not allowed to talk anymore.
*offers chair for $25 at garage sale; no takers*
*glues old gears and cogs to chair*
*sells “steampunk sitting contraption” on eBay for $800*
Interviewer: It says here you’re good at making up words. How often do you find that useful?
Me: Contuitively.
Imagine how hard it must have been before photography existed, having to hold a pose in the bathroom while painting your selfie.
[before pepper spray was invented]
Cop: *holds pepper grinder in suspect’s face* Say when.
-Ho ho ho, what do you want for Christmas?
-I want a Kylo Ren lightsaber, a Thor hammer, a Star Trek phaser, a—
-I was asking the boy, sir.
Me: Congratulations on becoming a master criminal.
Cousin: I earned a master’s degree in criminology.
Me: So do you get a bigger share of the loot from heists now or what?