Old men’s pants creep higher & higher up their waist into their armpits.
At the end of their lives they’re just a pair of pants with a head.

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8, peering closely at me: what’s that?

Me: my necklace

8: How do you know?


People think I’m kissing an imaginary girl when I play air tuba.


(my funeral)
Spouse, crying: I’ll miss you, my love. Your with the angels now.

Ghost me, whispering in his ear: *you’re

S: Oh ffs!


If you don’t know what stage your relationship is in, I’d recommend not sitting in the front row of a comedy show


Writer: Got this great idea for a movie… “102 Dalmations.”
Walt Disney: That’s way too many dalmations.


[God creating the raccoon]
God: make it cute with a lil mask
Angel: haha aw okay
God: also make it eat trash


me: I’d like to buy a hotdog with ketchup please

vendor: sorry cash only