My fave part of eating corn dogs is when you get to the bottom and you have to shove the wooden stick in the back of your throat to get that last bit o’ battered glizzy
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“Your honor, my client is absolutely not a flight risk.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“He is a penguin.”
I see that my reputation for using just slightly the wrong word proceeds me.
Me thinking: focus on what she’s saying, focus on what she’s saying, focus on what’s she’s saying…
My wife: …so what do you think?
Me: wait… what?
*after spending a solid 15 minutes listening to someone describe a tv show I’ll never watch*
I’ll definitely check it out.
I’m starting to think the sharks on “Shark Week” eat people just to get on tv.
I’m not real sure if my neighbors are having sex or playing ping-pong in flip-flops and shouting in Russian
Husband: I emptied the dishwasher.
Me: Great work, honey! Maybe you could try it again when it’s clean.
My toxic trait is drinking a giant cup of water and then getting on an hour and a half conference call
Man, we’re losing so many people at work. Eric got fired, Amy found a new job, Rich evolved into a being of pure energy and ascended to a higher plane of existence, Sam’s internship ended… Everyone’s leaving.
I do things for others…
Like when I’m drunk dancing by myself, Billy Idol style, and I save my friends from being seen with me.
Yesterday, I told my son about the Tooth Fairy. Today, I find 33 teeth under his pillow. Clearly they are not his. I am very, very afraid.
Shouldn’t Spiderman have 4 more legs?
NO…I don’t “make plans” because plans suggest INTENT…
…which is typically the distinction between second & first degree convictions.
friend: don’t look but that girl is checking you out
me: [turning around] who
Medusa: hey
friend: I said don’t look
statue:
Just killed a giant fucking spider with my wife’s bare hand.
TV Show Idea:
Speculation news.
A sort of news programme that uses a small amount of information and stretches it out for hours on end with absolutely no further facts other than speculation based on nothing at all, by self appointed experts in unrelated subjects.
Me: Do the dishes.
10-year-old: That’s the worst possible thing you could say to me.
Me: Do the dishes all week.
My Sweet Lord implies the existence of My Salty Lord, My Sour Lord, my Bitter Lord and of course the more recently discovered My Umami Lord
me: do you sell ducks?
him: yes, but they’re going quick
me: ok I’ll take one
[later]
duck: quick
me: I see
Canadians are so nice and polite bc they made a pact with Satan to have all their hate stored in the geese
i just blocked everyone who’s face i don’t like, so if you’re seeing this…hiii
My grandma talks a lot of shit for someone who still uses a flip phone.
[at the park]
SON: dad dad what’s that in the sky?! (points at helicopter)ME: (forgetting the word helicopter) that son is……a blenderplane
Confusing my 12 year old..
12: Dad, you want to go swimming in the pool?
Me: Dude, it’s friggin pouring out!
12: So???
Me: I don’t wanna get wet…
12: Ummmmm… WHAT?!
*wrestles a hard fought 30min match*
*shakes opponent’s hand*
*hugs opponent*
*makes out with opponent*
*enters stable relationship with opponent that has intellectual chemistry and emotional intimacy*
*3 month anniversary brunch CLOTHESLINE HEEL TURN IT WAS ALL A SETUP*
I never text and drive bc that would imply that I actually go places.
my daughter said “it’s cold, but it’s a beautiful day.” ppl w no bills are so positive.
Do I hope that my toddler grows up to be an intelligent and fully-functioning member of society? Yes. Do I also hope that he’s still trying to inflate a balloon by holding it two inches in front of his face and blowing toward the hole? Hell yes.
Her: you know what really makes my mouth water?
Me *slowly closes the menu* salivary glands
I’m in my late 40s raising a teenage son, tween son and toddler daughter of course my house is basically a frat house with glitter