Writing a letter to Santa now because I don’t wanna seem like one of those friends that only reaches out when I want something

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Wrong hole.
Wrong hole.
Wrong hole.
Wrong hole.
-trying to put on my distressed denim jeans


M: Twitter has helped me tremendously as a writer, as it demands tightness and brevity.
Friend: What do you write?
M: Oh, only tweets now.


*doesn’t turn down whale sounds relaxation cd while being pulled over*


This is the last week you can threaten to cancel Christmas if your kids don’t do what you say; use it wisely.


I think my life would have turned out differently had I forwarded those chain letters in the 80’s.


[standing in driveway with wife]
I thought we agreed on a Prius
[giant eagle pecks at saddle]


girlfriend: at my house we call pop soda

me: weird but ok

her dad: *opens door* hello

me: hello soda


Pug: did you play favorites when you named our breeds?

God: I don’t play favorites.

Pug: what about Golden Retriever and Great Dane?

God: those are just names.

Pug: yeah I guess.

God: I promise everyone got the name they deserved.

Shih Tzu: [to Pug] did you ask him yet?


[hotel fire alarm]

M: *in pjs* How did people get dressed and outside so quickly?

H: It’s 10am, they were already dressed.

M: impressive


prisoner: [wakes up half drunk] where am i

sheriff: bad news pal you’re in jail

prisoner: i can see that but where

sheriff: mississippi

prisoner: ok now that is bad news