Listen employers if I could see where I’d be in five years I’d be joining the X-Men not applying for your shitty job.
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Here’s a little song I wrote about being old in the summer it’s called “Sunburn on My Bald Spot” and a one and a two
Friend: dude you can stop eating now, you already won the contest
Me: the what
{my first day as a football announcer}
wow those guys really want that coconut there must be a genie inside.
Overall, the kids and parents took Wonka’s maniacal screaming, small orange mutated workers, and horrific accidental deaths in stride, maintaining remarkable composure. This tells us they were no strangers to candy factory tours.
The girl across from me is on the phone to her boyfriend. I regret nodding when she told him she looked terrible.
*bitten by radioactive penguin
*gains ability to not fly
*someone hands me a baby*
Oh… no thank you
*places baby on the ground*
Any dad can be a stepdad if you use him to reach the top shelf
The neighbors with the baby moved out, and now the loudest crying heard throughout the entire apartment complex comes from me.
Probably the worst part about being a snail is how you can’t put salt on your French fries.
Wouldn’t it be WAY weirder if Taylor Swift DIDN’T get all excited at her boyfriend’s games? Like, what if she just sat there, stone-faced?
Describe yourself in four bold words and two exclamation points
Me:
White people don’t dance at concerts so they can save all their energy for the “Woo!” at the end of a song.
If you’re walking around with a toothpick in your mouth you may think you look cool but we’re all just worrying about you tripping
me: just tell me what to do
universe: *gives me a clear sign*
me: well that could be for anybody
[movie studio in the 2010s]
“This script stars The Rock as-”
Studio: WE’LL MAKE IT
Anyone: Hey, can I ask you a personal question?
Me: *sound of footsteps running away*
Family vacation is when you listen to your kids cry someplace expensive.
Wife: We get 1 “cheat meal” on our diet. I want tacos. What do you want?
Me: The waitress.…And that’s why I’m not getting laid tonight.
Just got your text from last night: you need to cut the red wire first to stop the countdown.
I have a time phobia.
*looks at watch, panics
*looks at clock, panics
*looks at thyme “This I can handle.”
*bark*
“What’s that Lassie?”
*bark bark*
“Timmy’s stuck in a loveless marriage with an overly critical wife?”
*bark*
“Ooh, dinnertime.”
You Matter.
Unless you multiply yourself by the speed of light squared.
Then you Energy.
In case anyone was wondering. I only missed 2 words this week on my 3rd graders practice spelling test.
4th grade will be tough for us. Please say a prayer.
*looks over shoulder*
*puts tiny piece of paper in trash*Wife (from upstairs): THAT CAN BE RECYCLED!!!
wife [on Facebook] Spent the day with the kids. We had so much fun!
wife [to me] Do you know what those little shits did to me today?
“I can’t eat all of that!”
… and other lies I tell
Me: Powers out. I’ll eat all the food in the fridge so it doesn’t spoil
Wife: You just turned off the lights
Me: *3 tacos in my mouth* what?
I tell people “I’m here to raise awareness” because I successfully spliced a werewolf and the lochness monster.
[in car on a road trip]
Me (checks clock): 5:07
*reads for a bit*
*scrolls emails*
*searches for radio station*
*eats a snack*
*knits a sweater*Me (checks clock): 5:08