So there’s a legend that in 1593, a soldier in Manila teleported to Mexico and I’ve never felt so connected to the lengths someone will go to for tacos.
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She’s only nine, but my daughter sings Adele like she’s already been through countless devastating break-ups
My 6yo announced, “All I want is a mansion and a yacht. That’s not much. Just two things.”
JUST. TWO. THINGS.
Clicking my heels together three times and saying “there’s no place like mozzarella sticks”
Animal poetry
so it’s mythic and sexy when sirens lead men to their deaths at sea with song, but when I do it, it’s all “how did you even do that” and “what the hell”
NASA is launching a new mission to say sorry to the aliens, they are calling it, “Apollo G”
Instead of intermittent fasting I’ve been trying intermittent eating and it’s working. I’m rarely hungry. The trick is to eat with dedicated regularity. Can’t believe no one else had it figured out yet.
Boy: *Kissing girl on couch* You wanna take this upstairs?
Girl: Hehe sure baby
Boy: Sweet! Grab the other end, I can’t carry it by myself
Like a good neighbor
plow my driveway, not my wife
Her: I hate organized religion
Me *trying to unnoticeably re-jumble my religion drawer*: psh, oh yeah, me too
Fill in the blank song lyric “You are always on my __________”…
Wrong answers only !
Today I brought my trash out wearing roller skates and a tiara simply because I like keep my neighbors guessing.
Ace of Base and the Lords of Acid meet in a bar and neutralize each other
[My son watching a film set in Victorian England]: It’s like they are speaking cursive.
Me: I have a hemorrhoid that looks like Don King.
Customs agent: I meant do you have any goods to declare?
[True Love’s gf on 7th day of Christmas, forcing smile]
awww Swans! how sweet! thx hon, these 7 birds will go nicely with the other 16 birds
The neighbors saw me plow over three sprinkler heads trying to back out of the driveway, so now I need to move.
ME, my last day as a doctor: Sir, your sugar is dangerously high. You need to eat less… *checking the notes on my hand*… crabs.
The art of conversation, otherwise known as two or more people each awaiting their chance to interrupt.
Him: When was the last time a man held a car door open for you?
“When I was arrested” is not the best answer, apparently
me: i’m sad about this thing
therapist: but it’s not about that thing
me: ok thx here’s $175
Priest: tell me your confessions
Me: I said the f word twice this week
Priest: [70% sure I stole his meatball sub from the church fridge] anything else
Scientist: knowing that flamingos turn pink because they eat shrimp, we fed one nothing but Gatorade for 6 months
Reporter: so what happened?
Scientist: it’s dead.
friend: you’re saying a huge alien lifted you onto his ship, examined you, and sent you back?
fish: that’s exactly what I’m saying
I hate it when I sit down on a warm public toilet seat and I have to set myself on fire.
If you’re charging me $15 for apple cider at a hayride it better contain enough booze to enable me to see a headless horseman.
my kids are suddenly asking why the leprechaun didn’t bring them anything or cause any chaos in our house and apparently me yelling “we aren’t Irish!!” isn’t a good enough explanation?