Alright, time for a Twitter spelling bee! First word: “their”, meaning “belongs to them.” Alright, that only leaves 14 of you left standing.
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My father gave me 3 pieces of advice
1. Don’t talk to strangers
2. Don’t do drugs
3. Don’t come into the garage when Deep Purple is blasting
They should make a sitcom where Gordon Ramsay works in a prison as a culinary instructor to prisoners with anger issues.
I know it’s dying but it’s difficult for me to let go of this app. I met my wife through Twitter. Who knows what other wives I could meet? Maybe even my second wife.
Granny moaning “godfuckingdammit” as she vomits Red Lobster scampi. @RedLobster: What’s your favorite seaside memory with your grandparents?
Me:She’s better than me.
BF:She’s not.
M:Look at those, they’re incredible!
BF:
M:STOP STARING!-Boyfriend reading other women’s tweets
Instead of the death penalty they should make prisoners nice and comfortable and then tell them that the remote control is across the room.
My best relationship advice: Make sure you’re the crazy one.
[coming in second] Meh, I never cared about winning in the first place.
My Indian name is dances without coordination.
A new poll shows that half of people would keep their current car forever if they could. “And now you CAN!” said the cost of living.
If mental stability was measured by the type of tweets we laughed at, straight jackets would be the new black.
What if toilet plumbing was really like those tubes at the bank and all the tubes just went to this one guy’s house and he’s really pissed
Everybody always says never go to bed angry, but nobody told my husband never let your wife go to Target angry. He learned this the hard way.
I never had to swim for my life in a shark attack but once I had to doggy-paddle really fast to get out of a pool when it was dessert time.
My signature move is to tell men that I can’t hear them because I have my headphones in when I quite visibly don’t have headphones in.
Never tell me to “make myself at home”…i’m just gonna eat all your cheese and then take a nap.
7-year-old: I jumped in a puddle and almost drowned!
Me: You’re exaggerating.
7: It was in that puddle you always complain about.
Okay, it might have been deep enough.
*walks into Babies R Us*
Hi I’d like to buy a baby.
“Sir we don’t-”
*I slide him a 100 dollar bill*
“This way please.”
“Im sorry, I’m just really uncomfortable around children,” she said.
“I understand that,” replied the obstetrician, “but I still need you to push.”
Me *digging my own grave*: see, I do have to do EVERYTHING around here
Based on my experience with trying to find the restroom at Kohl’s, I would die first in the Hunger Games.
I haven’t been around a baby in so long I can’t even remember how to put their leash on.
50 might be the new 40, but the hundred dollar bill is now the new twenty.
If anyone wants a more cost effective energy provider, I can supply endless energy on tap from my absolutely not tired child at bedtime.
i used to store stuff in my bra bc i hated carrying a purse. this one time i was making out with a guy n he unhooked my bra and a bunch of shit clunked onto the floor. he stopped and was like “what is that?” and i was like “don’t worry about it” and he was like “is that a knife?”
Maybe if y’all stopped complaining about Mondays and speaking the negativity into existence, your Mondays wouldn’t be so bad
[Snake family queueing to get on the train]
[They spot Samuel L Jackson already on board]
SNAKE DAD: Not this shit again.
If I was Snow White you’d never be able to kill me with an apple…you’d have to poison an eclair or something…
I taught my son how to spell beer so he’d stop bringing me Pepsi from the fridge.