Almost done with my screenplay about the end of the world, and only cats survive.
I call it “Apocalypse Meow”.
Me: “I updated the employee handbook like you asked.”
Boss: “This is just a book with pics of everyone’s hands.”
Me: “Pretty cool, right?”
I saw a sign that said FREE PUPPIES. I don’t know what crime they’re accused of, but I sure hope they get a fair trial.
“How much to go into this haunted house?”
“Sir, this is the Church of Scientology.”
“Ooh…Sounds scary! One ticket please!”
I want what every guy wants: To be involved in a rooftop chase.
Not to brag, but a top modeling agency just offered me a job as a “before” model.
HR: Do you want to sign up for 401k?
Me: Are you crazy? I can’t run that far!
This new flavor of Pringles is horrible. First of all, they aren’t even cut up. Secondly, they taste like tennis balls.
My computer just gave me an “Error 404” message, which can’t be right because I know I’ve made way more errors than that.
Apparently this dude at the mall was just tying his shoe and did NOT want to play leap frog. My bad, dude. My bad.
Steve Miller: “Some call me the gangster of love.”
Rest of the Steve Miller Band: “Nobody calls him that.”
Someone should open a bar called “The Gym”, so when I tell people where I’m going, it won’t be a lie.
When I see a piece of gum in the urinal, I think of how painful that piss must’ve been for that guy.
I had a dream I went to Hell and Satan forced me to sing karaoke with him.
That’s right, the Devil made me duet.
This one time, I got kicked out of the audience of “Cats” on Broadway for bringing a laser pointer.