With the rubber gloves, face masks, face shields, condoms, and smell of Lysol…sex isn’t as fun as it used to be.
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Nothing is better than a home cooked Thanksgiving dinner
The most unbelievable thing about Die Hard is that the office Christmas Party is happening on Christmas Eve.
Fellas, don’t feel like you can’t offer your wife cooking tips, even after she spends all day making a delicious home cooked meal. And it doesn’t hurt to throw in “That’s not how my mom used to do it”.
*going through airport security*
My brain: what if you’re secretly a drug dealer? What if you packed a gun you don’t own? Are you absolutely sure you didn’t accidentally fill your pockets with explosives?
I want to open a restaurant for divorcees but I can’t think of what to name it other than fed ex
Twitter: “Where people are openly Gay and secretly Republican”
Watching married people in love on twitter is so refreshing…
It would be even more refreshing, if they were married to eachother
Ever since I had my fingerprints taken for employment, I often sit at my desk gazing off in the distance, reflecting over the opportunity of an exciting life of crime lost by accepting this job.
Autocorrect changed “bible” to “bourbon” and that should tell you everything you need to know about me
I had to delete Facebook because I liked too many pictures of dogs yesterday and now the newsfeed algorithm thinks I care about those people
My oldest made us all breakfast this morning, then got mad when his little brother didn’t finish the meal he had worked so hard to create.
I think I’m on to something here…
ME: You win some, you lose some
WIFE: Where are the kids
Someone just got sent home for having a meltdown. I’ve never been so jealous of a coworker in my life.
Me: (checks Duolingo to see if there’s a lesson plan to learn the new weird slang my middle school kid uses unironically on a regular basis)
I almost ran somebody over yesterday, I guess I’ll have to try harder next time
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.
My dancing style can best be described as “Guy On Maury Who Just Found Out He Isn’t The Father.”
“Okay, try putting it in reverse.”
The Slow and The Furious: me navigating a shopping cart through a grocery store filled with morons.
family members leaving you things in their will is literally them saying “yeah I’ll give you this… over my dead body”
Prank Idea For The Ladies:
Swallow a plastic dinosaur, then make an appointment to get an ultrasound.
aliens are gonna be super confused when they show up threatening to overthrow our leaders and we’re all stoked and offer to help.
DATE: What do you do?
ME: I write for TV
DATE: Wow! Anything I would know?
ME: Ever heard of subtitles
*pronounces “vaseline” like “baseline”*
It really doesn’t feel like Christmas until Pavarotti is singing “Oh Holy Night” to the counterpoint of my wife shouting at the cats to get out of the tree
Forget a beach bod I want a bat’s bod give me giant fangs and the long, leathery wings I need to rule the night
Picnic ruined by underwhelming potato salad (and Fire ants).
I put “the rap” in therapy.
Yo, yo.
Emotional baggage, bitter like cabbage. Rollin up the green like a Hulked out savage. Burger, Inc.
Finally got around to emptying vegetable drawer of the fridge before something started its independence movement in there.