The filling in fortune cookies tastes like paper..
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My lucky number is 17 so I’m really hoping that 2017 is finally going to be my year. Otherwise, I’ll have to change my lucky number again.
Me: “If Americans say ‘sidewalk’, what do we mean in England?”
My six year old: “Crab!”
Me: ‘I miss you.’
The Point: ‘No shit.’
[watching friend input his password on a website]
ME: dude, your password is just 10 asterisks? not very secure
Trump: 🎶 Do you wanna build a snowman? 🎶
Elsa: Who will pay for this snowman?
Trump: 🎶 Ok byeee 🎶
If the covid vaccine is implanting trackers in us then that just means when I get lost in an ikea then they can send in a rescue team
Me: Mom’s recovery from from hip replacement is going well. She’s getting smurfy on her feet.
Friend: LOL! Smurfy? You mean sturdy, right?
Me: The big white shoes and blue legs are a bit weird but she’s adapting.
Now that we’re divorcing,
I’m definitely not finishing that scarf I’ve been knitting you for nine years
Genie: *rubbing temples* you could have just asked for $300 in one wish
my dad didn’t let me date untill i was pregnant…
I love it all
Probably the worst thing about dying a virgin would be all the dead terrorists that are waiting for you.
I formerly apologize to my mother for any and everything that follows that she inevitably won’t approve of. #TheFirstLineInMyAutobiography
Yes…
I retweet.
Isn’t that kinda the point?
Spread the love and shit?
Mostly shit…
But that’s your fault…
him: can you pour me a glass of wine
me: there’s only enough left for me
him: there’s a whole bottle
me: yes
“I deleted that tweet because I’ve really grown as a writer in the past 7 minutes and it’s just not up to my current standards”
When I was a child, 49 seemed like such an ancient, faraway age, where people would probably totter about aimlessly and confused, forgetting everything, with parts of their decrepit body falling off. Now I actually am 49, I realise I was absolutely spot on.
me: [sets to bed time reminders on my Fitbit to be responsible]
Later that night
Fitbit: time for bed
me: DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO
“I’m a talking piece of paper. Your eyes are beneath your nose. Nothing’s real here, kid.”
Currently the sexiest person in this empty field.
My wife has like 20% of a conversation in her head before she decides to bring me into it. We can be driving in silence and she’ll just be like “and then we’ll pick the kids up and go straight from there.”
*bakes 12 cookies*
*waits for family to come home*
*eats 12*
*family arrives*
5 year old: “I SMELL COOKIES!”
“Weird! Here’s a salad.”
[sermon]
There will come a day when Christ will drive out evil from our land, and it will be the Judgment Day!
*T-1000 shifts nervously*
Lois: “I saw Batman yesterday. He’s put on a lot of weight”
Clark: *lowers glasses* “More like Fat-
Lois: “Oh my god it’s Superman”
[diner]
Waitress: What’ll it be?
Me: (doing connect-the-dots in the kids menu) A giraffe, I think.
god: u can eat things twice ur size
snake: ok but how
god: go like 😮
snake:
god: then u just kinda :O
Django and Bjork, sitting in a tree, j-j-j-j-j-j-j.
Me: God grant me the serenity.
God: What was that? I couldn’t hear you over your screaming kids.
Awww. It looks like the neighbors are having the police dept over for brunch..
Save time on divorce paperwork, and just hand the judge your phone.