How do birds communicate?

I replied “can I at least Taekwondo?”

Homiecide

“How long have you been having these Disney spells?”

Oedipus: Oracle, what’s going to happen to me? Oracle: you’re going to kill your father and marry joe. Oedipus: whose Joe?

Now I can’t even look myself in the mirror.

Donald Trump meets with the Queen. He asks her, "Your Majesty, how do you run such an efficient government? Are there any tips you can give to me?" "Well," says the Queen, "the most important thing is to surround yourself with intelligent people." Trump frowns. "But how do I know the people around me are really intelligent?" The Queen takes a sip of tea. "Oh, that's easy. You just ask them to answer an intelligence riddle." The Queen pushes a button on her intercom. "Please send Theresa May in here, would you?" Theresa May walks into the room. "Yes, my Queen?" The Queen smiles. "Answer me this, please, Theresa. Your mother and father have a child. It is not your brother and it is not your sister. Who is it?" Without pausing for a moment, Theresa answers, "That would be me." "Yes! Very good," says the Queen. Back at the White House, Trump asks to speak with Vice President Mike Pence. "Mike, answer this for me. Your mother and father have a child. It's not your brother and it's not your sister. Who is it?" "I'm not sure," says the Vice President. "Let me get back to you on that one." Mike Pence goes to his advisers and asks every one, but none can give him an answer. Finally, he ends up in the men's room and recognizes General McMasters' shoes in the next stall. Mike shouts, "General! Can you answer this for me? Your mother and your father have a child and it's not your brother or your sister. Who is it? General McMaster yells back, "That's easy. It's me!" Mike Pence smiles. "Thanks!" and goes back to the Oval Office to speak with Trump. "Say, I did some research and I have the answer to that riddle. It's General McMaster." Trump gets up, stomps over to Mike Pence, and angrily yells into his face, "No, you idiot! It's Theresa May!"

Because it was inbred.

Tomorrow, I'll bring an MP5.

https://ift.tt/2OsA7YW

That way you'll start off the new year on the right foot.

It was the least I could do for him.

She's very appreciative of our commitment to recycling jokes.

Because tomorrow he turns 81!

A teenage boy was delivering papers to an apartment house. While there, a stunning young woman came out of the apartment next to the mailboxes wearing only a robe. The boy smiled at the young woman and she started up a conversation with him. As they talked, her robe slipped open, and it was obvious that she had nothing else on. The poor kid broke into a sweat trying to maintain eye contact. After a few minutes of flirting, she placed her hand on his arm and said, "Let's go to my apartment, I hear someone coming." He followed her into her apartment; she closed the door and leaned against it, allowing her robe to fall off completely. Now nude, she purred at him, "What would you say is my best feature?" Flustered and embarrassed, he finally squeaked, "It has to be your ears." Astounded, and a little hurt she asked, "My ears? Look at these breasts; they are a full 38 inches and 100 percent natural. I work out every day and my ass is firm and solid. I have a 28 inch waist. Look at my skin, not a blemish anywhere. How can you think that the best part of my body is my ears?" Clearing his throat, he stammered, "Outside, when you said you heard someone coming…that was me."

but they keep ending up in the gutter.

I think I managed to cover my tracks…

so that both cashiers can spend time with their families.

Those jokes are a decade old now!

Wife: I can't believe they're still together after all that shit. Me: Who? Wife: My butt cheeks.

Like cops, DEA agents…

‘Because we don’t need depth perception with our mouths ‘ was his technically correct answer

https://ift.tt/2MOD46q

Dad : “No, the regular kind.”

I can’t afford anything.

A faux pa

If it sinks, girl ant and if it floats, buoyant

Brocco

But I couldn't find a manual.

It may sound like he's a bit nerdy, but we all have our things we love and he's a lover of old streets. The ground of the alley is a light orange in hue, with a soft almost nutty sheen and texture. His feet feel refreshed! The street has gorgeous slopes and embankments, like an alleyway out of Florence in the 1500s, but made out of clay stones. He sees two gentlemen working on fixing a small crack in the street, the only blemish for blocks. One of them is pounding down the clay with a wide-head sledgehammer, thwap thwap! The other is on his knees with a compass and a pick and a broom, adjusting the grade of the street material. He interrupts them to say, "Excuse me gentlemen! I hate to be a bother, but I just want to applaud your hard work on this alleyway. It's rare a city takes such good care with its streets and this one is one of the best." The man with the sledge stops and says, "Well, we appreciate that sir. You know your streets, it seems! Would it surprise you to know that the composition of this street is not adobe? It's mulched with our native nut trees, the cashew nut. That's what gives it its softness. When it rains, the petrichor has a slight sweetness due to the cashew, and the town smells fantastic. I'm just hammering it down before it gets too cold." "Well, I'll be!" cried the archaeologist. "And what's that fellow up to?" pointing to the man on his knees. "Oh him! He's in charge of checking the grade of the clay. If it's too rough, he picks and sweeps it. Backbreaking work. We hire four of them, one for each season. And since autumn just arrived, he's got a few months yet. So you see…" And here the man paused… "So you see…my hammered alley is really 'cashews clay'. And he is the gradist." . . "The gradist…of fall time."

I thought, how dairy