How did I get out of Iraq?
And tells him that a customer just complained about the oven baked flatbread. His manager told him not to worry about it. The waiter went back to work but came back to his manager a few minutes later saying another customer was complaining about the oven baked flatbread. The manager said that it wasn’t important and that he should go back to work. The waiter again returned to work but a few minutes later returned saying that yet another customer was dissatisfied with the oven baked flat bread. The manager told him to forget it. The waiter asked why he wouldn’t talk to him about it. The manager said “Don’t worry, it’s a naan-issue!”
I was driving with my dad when we passed a cemetery. My dad goes in a low, dark, creepy voice, “I know something about this cemetery that you don’t.” And I was like what is it? He continued, “The people living in this town can’t be buried here.” I was really confused so I asked why?
He rasped, "Cuz they’re still alive!"
The man handed the baby back to the doctor. "Then bring me the one my wife did make."
No, seriously, it is.
This is the donning of the "h" of Ahquarius.
When I was in kindergarten, I was so caught up in learning the names of all the numbers that I memorized them out of order.
I couldn't see the fours for the threes.
The foreman points out a huge pile of sand and says to the Italian, "You're in charge of sweeping." To the Scotsman he says, "You're in charge of shovelling." And to the Chinese man he says, "You're in charge of supplies." So the foreman goes away for a couple of hours and when he returns, the pile of sand is untouched. He asks the Italian, "Why didn't you sweep any of it?" He replies "I no hava no broom, you saida to the Chinese guy that he wasa ina charge of supplies, but he hasa disappeared and I no coulda finda him nowhere." The foreman turns to the Scotsman and says, "And you, I thought I told you to shovel this pile." He replied, "Aye, ye did lad, bit ah couldnae git masel' a shuvl! Ye left thon wee Chinese mannie in chairge of supplies, bit ah couldnae fin' him onywhar." The foreman is really pissed off now and storms off towards the pile of sand to look for the Chinese guy. As he approaches the mound, the Chinese guy leaps out from behind the sand and yells… "SUPPLIES!"
I asked my 10 brothers and sisters, but they don’t know either.
Turns out I came early.
Which is nice because we might finally get to see a mumble rapper completing a sentence
No One was shocked
Because they're so damn good at it.
…is just a whim away, a whim away, a whim away.
The European Commission has just announced an agreement whereby English will be the official language of the European Union, given its majority status in the EU, despite the UK leaving. As part of the final Brexit negotiations, Germany proposed a 5- year phase-in plan that would become known as "Euro-English". Germany argued that this may make the EU more inviting to the UK in the future. In the first year, "s" will replace the soft "c". Sertainly, this will make the sivil servants jump with joy. The hard "c" will be dropped in favour of "k". This should klear up konfusion, and keyboards kan have one less letter. There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year when the troublesome "ph" will be replaced with "f". This will make words like fotograf 20% shorter. In the 3rd year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible. Governments will enkourage the removal of double letters which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling. Also, al wil agre that the horibl mes of the silent "e" in the languag is disgrasful and it should go away. By the 4th yer peopl wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing "th" with "z" and "w" with "v". During ze fifz yer, ze unesesary "o" kan be dropd from vords kontaining "ou" and after ziz fifz yer, ve vil hav a reil sensi bl riten styl. Zer vil be no mor trubl or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi TU understand ech oza. Ze drem of a united urop vil finali kum tru. Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst plas.
The individual male Warlocks, try as they might, could not master the art of bringing back their counterparts and all seemed lost. Then, two young Warlocks found that, by working together – one recreating the body while the other recreated the soul – they could bring them back to life from the very sand they died in. It's crazy but they could finish each other's Sand Witches.
Man wakes up in a slum with no memory of how he got there. He wanders around aimlessly before he finds even one person who will talk to him. Some ratty beggar on the street turns out to be nice enough to explain where he is. "You're in the afterlife!" he tells the man, "But you must have been a real shithead when you were alive, because this is the fourth ring, and only the worst people come here." All of a sudden, a siren goes off, one of those air-raid things. The man is terrified but the beggar gets up calmly and leads him to a big, dilapidated warehouse where thousands of other similarly unkempt souls are gathering. When the man asks why they're all here, the beggar points to a line of folding tables against the wall. Each table has some moldy bread, cups of dingy water, and some bowls of broth so thin they could have just run out of cups. Only then does the man realize how hungry he is. A guard in heavy body armor blows a whistle and all the people arrange themselves into three lines. The beggar is helpful enough to explain them for the man. "That one's the bread line, that's the broth line, and that's the water line. All the food here is free, but if you want to get out of this maggot hole, you've got to work, because the gate guards into the third ring ask five hundred dollars to get through. I've heard the food is better there." So the man gets his food. It's abominable, and right then and there, he vows to make five hundred dollars and get into the third ring. Unfortunately for him, very few people need work in the afterlife, especially when all of them are saving up to emigrate. Even still, after ten years of hard work, eating the moldy bread and indistinguishable soup and water, he finally saves up enough money. The guards let him through and he finds himself in the third ring. It's nothing too fancy, if anything, it's a bit below average for a real city, but to his eyes it is paradise. All the guards look much friendlier, and the houses and buildings, while not spacious or lavish, are at least up to code. And to his surprise, he runs right into a familiar former beggar as he crosses the street. "What are the odds?" they both ask and they get to conversing. The beggar, it turns out, only managed to make it in himself a few months back. Their conversation is interrupted, however, by what sounds like a school bell. When the man seems confused, the beggar leads him to what looks like a giant gymnasium. Here, people are gathering once again, and the man begins to understand. On a line of folding tables against one wall are stacks of hot dogs, big bowls of salad, and solo cups full of fresh lemonade. A cop shouts for everyone's attention and directs them all to stand in three lines. The beggar smiles at the man's wonder and points to each line in turn. "That's the hot dog line, that's the salad line, and that's the lemonade line." The man gets in each line in turn and gets himself his lunch. While he's eating, basking in joy at not being stuck with old bread and water, the beggar encourages him, "The best part is, halfway through the year, they switch from hot dogs, salad, and lemonade to chicken, chili, and hot chocolate. You can never get tired of it!" Sadly, this proved not to be true. After only a few days, the man did again get tired of the same meal every day. But he knew firsthand that he could change his lot, so one day he went up to the wall of the second circle. This time the guards were asking for ten thousand dollars. Well, the man didn't like it, but he figured he had his whole afterlife ahead of him now that he was out of the fourth circle, and he could certainly take some time to save up. After ten years of hard work, it wasn't too difficult for him to keep up the work ethic, and only twenty years later, he went back to the guards of the second ring with the money in hand. He went through the gate and found himself in a glittering, clean city full of glass and steel. And wouldn't you know it, but there, standing across the street was the same beggar, only now he was wearing a well-fitted suit. The man greeted the beggar as an old friend and they started talking again. Once again, their conversation was interrupted, only this time it was by beautiful church bells. "Come," the beggar told him, "I'll take you to the evening meal." So the man followed and they entered a glamorous ballroom filled with beautiful attendees. Even the cops here looked good, dressed in suits and sunglasses like bodyguards. And sure enough, piled onto platters on huge mahogany tables against the far wall were plates of steak, bowls of the most delicious seafood soups, and glasses of champagne. One of the bodyguards cleared his throat loudly and politely requested that the attendees line up. Three lines were formed and the beggar pointed each line out in turn. "That's the steak line, that's the soup line, and that's the champagne line," and then he added, "and apparently here, they change the meals FOUR times a year!" The man rejoiced, ate, and was happy, and for once felt that nothing was lacking. Four changes a year was enough for him. But one day, out of curiosity, he went up to the bodyguards that guarded the gate into the first and final ring of the afterlife and found they were asking for a million dollars to pass. Well the man was a bit disturbed by this, after all, the second ring seemed perfect to him. "What is it," he thought, "that could possibly be more wonderful than what I have here?" That question haunted him for weeks until he came to a conclusion. He was used to working hard and he had all of eternity to save up, so he wanted, just once to see what he could possibly be missing in the first ring. Fifty years later, he returned to the guards with a million dollars. When he stepped into the first ring he fell to his knees. The architecture was glorious and inhuman, and the bodyguard had turned into shining angels. To his surprise, someone helped him up off the street and when he looked, he realized he recognized who it was–it was the beggar he met in the fourth ring, adorned in a golden robe and glowing, and when he looked down at himself he realized he looked much the same. The beggar laughed jovially. "I got here only three years ago myself, but somehow I knew you would be right here behind me. I've come back to this gate every day waiting for you to make it in!" Suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of angelic choirs and the beggar led the man off to a gigantic palace made of crystal and cloud. The room was filled with radiant citizens of the first circle and angels prepared everything. Sure enough, there was a line of massive altars against one wall, spilling over with glistening golden dragon meat, a pudding refined from clouds and dew and silk, and an ice cold tub of ambrosia and nectar ladled out individually into blindingly beautiful crystalline chalices. An angel fluttered from the ceiling and bowed silently to the assembled mass, who bowed respectfully back and then broke themselves into their lines on their own. Smiling at the tradition, the beggar pointed to the first line. "That's the line for the dragon meat," he said before turning to the next line, "and that's the line for angeldust stew," then he paused, confused. "What is it?" the man asked his old friend. The beggar replied, "There appears to be no punchline."
We’ve been talking about mod apps for years now, but it’s never actually materialized.Well, here’s the Google FormAfter a week or so we will look through all of the responses and stalk profiles do research and see who the best candidates are.
“robin, get in the batmobile”
Men just go for higher paying jobs like doctor, CEO, lawyer ect. Where as women pick lower paying jobs like female doctor, female lawyer, and female CEO
Find out after the break!
and I have Palm Sunday.
A police officer says to a couple: “I’m sorry to tell you this, but your son set the school on fire”.
They ask "Arson?", and the officer answers "Yes, your son".