I’m secretly a really cool person, but I can’t let anyone know.
I found a wallet and there was a fresh 100 dollar bill. I asked myself, what would have Jesus done? So I turned it into wine.
So I pushed her over.
you're built upside down.
I said "Yes, but I'm going to get whiskey instead"
I found it a little hard to swallow.
Because the last time they had a fat man 80,000 people died
Someone who’s career is in ruins
A mailman notices a mailbox with the flag up So, he opens the box and picks up the letter. He glances at it briefly to make sure it is stamped, and then puts it in his bag with his other letters. When he gets back to his office, the letter goes in a big bin with all of the other out-going mail. He thinks nothing of it, and finishes his day. A few days later, he delivers the exact same letter to the same house that he picked it up from. He glances at the mailing address and observes that it is indeed the same as the return address. Anyone can make a mistake, so the mailman puts the letter in the mailbox so that the customer can readdress it for its proper recipient. He thinks nothing of it and finishes his day. The next day, the mailman sees the same mailbox with the flag up. He opens the box and again sees the same letter, nothing changed, but with a new stamp on it. The mailman is perplexed, and thinking to save the customer both time and money, decides to ring the doorbell and inquire about the letter. Ding-dong, ding-dong. Ding-dong, ding-dong. Ding-dong, Ding-dong. The door opens and standing there is a stout Buddhist monk, dressed in traditional garb. “Pardon me, sir,” the mailman says, “but you seem to be trying to mail this letter again, and without any changes to the address, it’s only going to end up back at your home in a few days.” “Ah, my letter. Thank you so much for mailing it the other day, it was greatly appreciated. Please do so again” replies the Buddhist monk. “But sir,” says mailman, “you will only waste a stamp, and this letter will be re-delivered to your home a few days from now.” “But that is my intention, dear man,” replies the Buddhist monk. “You see, reposting is the best way to get karma.”
It's a pane in the ass
How do you tell a good joke about time travel?
It's not your typical food sauce
He is my cousin, twice [removed]
Shop owner: Sure. Where is it? Man: I have no idea.
No text found
Because they're dead
Outlaws are wanted.
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”
My carer says I should be able to try the spoon tomorrow.
Bob came home drunk one night, slid into bed beside his sleeping wife and fell into a deep slumber. He awoke before the Pearly Gates, where St. Peter explained, “You died in your sleep, Bob.” Bob was stunned, “I’m dead? No, I can’t be! I’ve got too much to live for. Send me back!”
St. Peter said, "I'm sorry, but there's only one way you can go back and that is as a chicken." Bob was devastated, but begged St. Peter to send him to a farm near his home. The next thing he knew, he was covered with feathers, clucking and pecking the ground. A rooster strolled past, "So, you're the new hen, huh? How's your first day here?" "Not bad." replied Bob the hen. "But I have this strange feeling inside. Like I'm gonna explode!" "You're ovulating." explained the rooster. "Don't tell me you've never laid an egg before?!" "Never!" said Bob. "Well, just relax and let it happen." says the rooster. "It's no big deal." Bob did and a few uncomfortable seconds later, out popped an egg! Bob was overcome with emotion as he experienced motherhood. He soon laid another egg — his joy was overwhelming. As he was about to lay his third egg, he felt a smack on the back of his head and heard his wife yell, "BOB!! Wake up!! You've shit the bed!"
I woke up exhausted.
We are from the south so things are going good.
Because they have 3 periods a game.
Turns out people don’t like it when you go the extra mile for them.
If you don't have one, you'll have to unload by hand.
He was really hauling ass.
Some elderly lady asked me to check her balance. So I pushed her over.
Because in the end, they’re all wieners.
Which means our women will be driving