They’re not called “butt hole mirrors.” They’re called “hand mirrors,” according to this clerk at Walgreens.
My wife’s been working in our garden for two solid days now. I never realized tomatoes required a big, six-foot-deep hole like that.
Wile E. Coyote’s Amazon reviews of Acme products are pretty scathing.
It’s just a matter of time before they add the word “Syndrome” after my last name.
So, we tip the pizza delivery guy, but not ambulance drivers.
When making small talk at a tweet-up, avoid using the word “fungus.”
Senior sext: CAN YOU READ ME NOW?
Just unfollowed a bunch of people funnier than me. Now my tweets seem, you know, funnier. Tomorrow I unfollow all the good-looking people.
I’m forbidding the twelve people who regularly star my tweets to ever fly in an airplane together.
I’ll be tweeting telepathically today, so if you think of something funny, that’s me.
Whenever someone tells me they have an IQ of 140, I wonder if that’s Fahrenheit or centigrade.
I knew joining a gym was a bad idea when I got there and needed help pulling the door open.