I don’t hate ALL of the periodic table.
Just elements of it
The student comes up to the professor, "What is this, why did you grade me an 80?" The professor looks at the exam again, "Yep, an 80 is what you deserve" The student takes the exam back, and asks "If I'll bite my own eye, will you give me an 85?" The professor is surprised, but still he agrees, at which point the student then takes out his glass eye – and bites it. The shocked professor then takes the exam back, and marks it 85. The student then says "If I'll bite my nose, will you give me a 90?" The professor is once again shocked, "He can't pull out his nose" he thinks to himself. He finally agrees, at which point the student takes out his dentures, and bites his own nose. The professor then once again takes the exam, and marks the grade 90. The student then makes another offer: "If I'll get up on this table, and pee the perfume Coco Chanel on you, will you give me a 100?" The professor now has to see what this kid can do, so he agrees. The student goes on the table, and pees all over the professor, the professor's shirt is soaking wet, as he goes to to sniff it. "What the hell?! This isn't Coco Chanel! This is piss!" The student then goes "Fine, we'll leave it at 90".
A wok a wok a wok a wok a wok a wok a wok a wok a wok a wok…
Because they’re full of Arab semen.
…when I lay it across the keyboard it stretches all the way from A to Z!
It's a good thing I'm married…
I have a son who’s on the spectrum. It’s quite common for people like him to latch onto one specific topic and become an absolute encyclopedia about it. Some people choose trains, some a cartoon. For my son, this was mollusks. Interesting topic I know, but it seemed to be a pretty good deal for us because it meant he’d get really excited about going outside to the beach which we figured was healthier than staying inside all the time. He’d always have a shell with him, or in his pocket. Usually he doesn’t want to talk much, but if you opened the conversation to it, he’d sit there rattling off facts about mollusks for hours. This was shaping up to be a long term passion, so for his 15th birthday I went out and bought him a giant conch shell. He absolutely loved it. The texture, holding it to his ear etc. It was too big to carry around with him all the time, but he kept it by his bed. Fast forward three years, this is where things get weird. About a month ago I was cleaning his room and picked up the conch to dust it off, something I’ve never actually done before. I was immediately hit by a terrible smell – I don’t want to get too into the gross details but I’m a dude, a once 18 year old dude, so I know what happens when you use something to masturbate and don’t clean it. I’m sure we all know what that smells like even after a week. It was pretty clear he had been using this shell as a kind of Strombidae fleshlight for a long, long time without cleaning it. I’m not going to share too much about what happened when this all came to light, but we tried taking it away and my god you’d think we just took his whole world. We decided to give the shell back, but worried this reflected a deeper issue my partner and I decided to get some professional help. So it’s been about a month of him seeing a behavioural therapist, and she recently asked me about his progress at home. I told her it’s been incredibly promising so far. He’s really starting to come out of his shell.
I woke up exhausted.
Cuz you’re blocking the TV
When I turned into a teenager, my dad repeatedly emphasized the importance of using a condom whenever I have sex.
He said, “Anyone who would sleep with you would sleep with almost anyone else.”
More on this after the break.
But let me give it a shot.
Apologies for not following the usual formatting. My father-in-law was diagnosed with lung cancer a few months ago. A few weeks ago, we learned it had spread to his brain. Later that day, he told me: “Well, everyone came by after they heard about the lung cancer and told me how strong and great I am, and that I’d beat lung cancer…” pauses for effect “…I guess I let it go to my head.”
I'm just doing it for the Monet
But I think it's just a big waist of space. Edit: Sorry for the bad pun, but you gotta give it at least 3 stars.
Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath.
This made him, A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.
A rip off.
They are a she now, but they were a heathen.
Were sitting at a table doing a puzzle. The daughter looks at her mom and says " mommy you have such pretty hair, but why is some of it white?" Smiling the mother tells her " you see honey, whenever you do something that makes me cry. My hair turns a little more grey." Hearing this her daughter's jaw drops and her eyes go wide as she asks " MOMMY WHAT DID YOU DO TO NANNA?"
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Long ago, in a land with giants and dragons there lived a very successful man. He made his wealth trading furs, dire wolf cloaks, unicorn hide gloves, tanned kraken belts, dragon scale boots, he traded in them all. This man, however had stopped sitting for any reason, so he would often dominate a room with his tall stature and commanding presence. Why? You may ask, and that is simple, he would always fall out of any seat in which he sat. His mantra began as much as an explanation as it was a focus during long hours of debate, trade, or travel: ”I am bad at sitting.” Those around him believed him cursed, to find a seat was thought impossible. The man was simply very bad at sitting correctly, and due to his stubbornness he decided it was the chairs fault and not his own. This lead to many, often funny circumstances, and harrowing adventures. Using his vast wealth and political connections he sought help from the greatest mages of the east. The mages, certain they could create a chair of such comfort, and natural balance that there is no way the man could fail to sit in it properly. Alas, the man could not get comfortable or remain seated for more than a few moments, and thus he shunned the mages for their incompetence. After the unfortunate failings of the mages he traveled to the west, where the greatest warriors in all the realms of man made their homes. He went from town to town, seeking the greatest of all the warriors, he found and gathered the greatest swordsman, the greatest axe wielder, the greatest archer, the greatest tracker, and even the master of the arenas: who was the finest duelist in the world. From a traveling circus he gathered the best acrobats, those who could walk a quarter inch tightrope for miles without difficulty, with the ability to train others to do the same. The master swordsman was an ancient woman, who taught the merchant patience greater than any other man. The axe wielder trained him in strength, that he was among the strongest men on earth. The Archer taught him the bow, and to hold a steady position for hours, despite his body’s protests. The tracker taught him how to move lightly, he gained such control of his body he could traverse a lightly frozen pond without breaking the ice, or leaving a trace. The arena master taught him to duel, and how to maintain his focus in any circumstance. The acrobats taught him such balance that he could sit upon a sphere of stone, which sat upon a single spike of iron, and maintain this position for days. After years of training, and becoming one of the finest warriors, strongest men, best archers, most capable hunters, an equal to the master of the arena in a duel, and the third finest acrobat in the world, he still could not sit correctly in a chair. He could stand on a chair, he could sleep while balanced on the back of the chair, but he could not sit as he should. He tried for months, patient as the stone he would perch upon. After 17 more Moons, he decided that though he had not given up, perhaps he should seek knowledge and skill that man could not provide. He traveled far to the north, through frozen passes, over the highest mountains, and descended the deepest valleys. He had to hunt to survive, and all those he traveled with died on the untamed mountains. He moved boulders five times his size, he traversed hills that mountain goats would gawk at. In due time, he came to a great cave: the place he had lost so many friends – and so much time – to find. He ventured into the cave, searching for the great white dragon, said to be as ancient as time itself. Upon spotting the man, the dragon roared, loud enough to shake the mountains, and deafen any mortal, but the man stood firm, able to keep his calm in any situation. The dragon, seeing this, used magic to heal the old merchant’s ears, and said ‘What do you want, a human of such strength and skill to reach me, and such nerve as to not cower before me?’ Though the merchant did not understand the language of dragons, he thought he understood the intent of the question. The man said “I am among the wealthiest merchants of the world, the strongest men on this plane, the finest hunter, and tracker known to man, an equal to the legendary duelists of the world, yet I can not sit in a chair. The greatest teachers of men, and the best enchanters in the land could not train me, nor use magic to cheat me, into comfort, or even long term discomfort in a chair. I am simply bad at it. Unfortunately, the dragon did not know the human language very well, and due to gross miscommunication ate the man whole. However, the man did not die, as he lay in the stomach of the dragon, he simply waited, knowing his life had come to an end. Three days passed, the dragon feeling more and more ill as time went on. On the fourth day the dragon’s mate returned, and asked him what was wrong. The Ancient dragon of the north replied “It must have been something I ate, it’s just not sitting right”
But the thyme is cumin.
He gets hammered.