It isn’t alcoholism if you’re a method actor training for a role as an alcoholic in a movie that doesn’t exist.
Houdini, running out of ideas: Watch and marvel as I escape from this predatory timeshare contract!
I don’t know why people get mad when someone uses their driveway to turn around. You get to feel the rage of someone dropping by unexpectedly followed by the orgasmic relief of them leaving.
Facebook memories be like
If robots are so smart, why can’t my roomba beat me at chess?
Checkmate, science.
Rebranding demon possession as a cure for loneliness.
Watch what you do in front of people. You never know when there might be a documentary being filmed about you and someone says, “He was dipping pieces of rotisserie chicken in tartar sauce and it made my skin crawl.”
Keep this between us, but I’ve snuck Don’t Speak lyrics into every relationship argument I’ve ever had.
Still waiting on Gwen Stefani to release a song explaining budgeting.
Blue smoke – Boy
Pink smoke – Girl
White smoke – Pope
Date: So what’s your backstory?
Me: Arthritis.
No One:
No One’s Date: Are you always this quiet?
Adding “Noted muralist” to Wile E. Coyote’s Wikipedia page.
Me: So now you will deep dive into my lore?
Interviewer: Well, we call it a background check, but sure.
Farmer: Here, take a gander.
Goose: No! My husband!