[parent-teacher conference]
Teacher: Which kid is yours?
Me: I don’t have kids. I just heard the teachers here are hot.
T:
M: How you doin’?
To everyone who received a file from me named myjunk.jpg: I thought I was sending you a photo of my garage sale. I am so, so sorry.
So the waiter said “The plate is hot” and I said “I’ll be the judge of that, haha.” Anyhoo, I met a lot of nice people at the burn center.
And the cat’s in the cradle so the baby must be at the pet groomer’s, this is a terrible mix-up.
Point of etiquette: When attending a chainsaw massacre, don’t spend the entire time chainsawing one person. Get out there and mangle.
My rum-raisin cake is gluten free. It’s also raisin free. And cake free. OK it’s just rum.
Went on blind date, woke up in bathtub with kidney gone. 6 out of 10, would date again.
Please stop sending me sexy photos of yourselves, ladies. You’re distracting me while I try to read this book on reverse psychology.
Hey Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.
*Tambourine Man shakes tambourine for several minutes*
Well that sucked.
“Why buy expensive fireworks when you can make your own with ordinary household chemicals?” I said, and the other patients in the ER agreed.
Me: Hey, don’t assume I’m dying alone. I might find someone, you don’t know.
Waiter: I asked if you were dining alone.
Me: Oh, sorry. Yes.
The downside of having friends who love sarcasm and irony is that when we make plans I’m never entirely sure we really made plans.
*approaches woman in club*
Me: Would you like to dance?
Her: Sure.
Me: While you’re dancing can I sit in your chair? I’m really tired.
Hope you enjoy my new song, “Part of This Song’s Title Is in Parentheses (For No Reason).”
Mom, you’re embarrassing me in front of the hostages!