My second account is trying to drive a wedge of suspicion between me and my Twitter crush.
“Down”
“Penetration”
“Tight End”
“Ball handling”
Don’t the networks have censors any more?
I wonder about the people who unfollow after one day. What were they expecting, Louis C.K.?
If they want to increase the use of public transit, they should start using a scale at the DMV license renewal counter.
We have a local weatherman who often forecasts “changeable skies.” He makes a lot of money to make that call.
My suspicious mole cancelled my appointment with a dermatologist.
I’m jealous of people who have more than one ab.
A thing I learned at this week’s staff meeting is that I have restless leg syndrome when I sleep.
Apparently people will pay to be subjected to medieval torture devices if you call the place a “gym.”
What’s the point of making people like Paul McCartney and Elton John knights if they’re not going to joust?
Boss: Good suggestions at the staff meeting today, Bill.
Me: I talk in my sleep?
Surprised Scarlett Johansson didn’t leg sweep Travolta, throw him over her should onto his back and put her foot on his throat.
I remember my first time at a mic. “Cleanup on aisle 5” & “Price check-Advil” were two early bits that really seemed to resonate with folks.
If HBO released all ten episodes of Game of Thrones at once, maybe I’d be able to remember the characters’ names from episode to episode.
Shattner didn’t go to Nimoy’s funeral, and Obama’s been on the phone all weekend with the Vulcan ambassador, trying to smooth things over.