Wife: So, I really need you to help out this week, because I’m super busy at work.
Me: Mmm hmmm
Wife: Are you even listening to me?
Me: *thinking about opening a restaurant for cats* You need me to buy super glue and a wok. Got it.
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Senility is the pits. Spent an hour driving around the mall parking lot looking for my car.
Can’t, going through the work email I just wrote with a fine tooth comb to eliminate all traces of sarcasm, opinionation, and existential despair.
Her: What do you do?
Me: Global prosthetics distribution.
Her: You’re an artificial limb salesman?
Me: I prefer ‘international arms dealer’.
A scrub is a guy who thinks he’s fly.
[I scramble to take off my full-body fly costume]
If you’re a cannibal, it’s technically hunting, not murder.
I left my milkshake in the yard too long
And the boys got food poisoning
Hockey would be better if the players had to write a short essay about what they did wrong before they could leave the penalty box.
My kids think I’m going to miss them when they leave for college, but I’ll be busy drinking my coffee while it’s still hot.
“WATERMELON” HAS 4 SYLLABLES. “ILLUMINATI” HAS 5 SYLLABLES. THAT’S PRETTY CLOSE. WATERMELON IS ILLUMINATI.
People who say that their wedding day was the best day ever have obviously never had a KitKat that turns out to be just solid chocolate.
I didn’t realize that was an option
Gazing at nature’s majesty, I am one with the woods. This is where I belong, I muse as I’m drilled with a paintball and promptly eliminated
I plan the silliest murders in my dreams because all I have to do to get away with it is wake up.
I heard that, by law, you are required to turn on your headlights when it’s raining in Sweden.
How am I supposed to know if it’s raining in Sweden?
those birds must be on payroll
Just tried to show my daughter how to jump rope and now I have scrambled eggs where my brain used to be and my left ankle no longer moves. Don’t get old, kids.
1,000 Ways To Die is so unrealistic. There’s no episode where a man asks a woman ‘what’s wrong?’
Some girl I don’t even know has been telling people that I’m her boyfriend. I’m flattered but I prefer to be the psychotic one in the relationship.
If there isn’t an open bar at my funeral then count me out, I’m not going!
3-year-old: *dumps Cheez-its on the floor*
Me: What are you doing?!
3-year-old: Feeding the Roomba.
I’m a female historian who specializes in war atrocities, check out my blog “The War Atrocity Babe”
There’s no training in the world as physically and mentally grueling as trying to give medicine to a toddler
“Let the jerk-off begin!”
As the other contestants begin seasoning their meats I look at my bottle of lotion and realize I’ve misunderstood
Date: I’m totally into the Dad bod.
Me: *exhales for 3 straight minutes* That’s a relief. I’ve been sucking in since I picked you up.
Wait. I thought I was watching Hoarders. Looks like things are heating up!
It never fails: whenever I’m at a crime scene, analyzing blood spatter and bullet trajectories, someone always assumes I’m a CSI.
Relationship status: you’d think something called a Roomba would be a better dancer
[middle of a heated argument]
Him: I’m leaving you
Her: fine with me, I’ll get the door for you *opens the oven*
My doctor says I’m a hypochondriac. Is that any way to speak to a woman who’s probably dying?
I’m only a vegetarian so people won’t invite me anywhere