Her: the baby sure is taking his time getting his meal in Me: yeah he is really milking it
The teacher isn't there on time. A few minutes passed, and she still hasn't arrived yet. James kinda figured, while the teacher was away, he ought to keep writing his novel he's been working on, about cats. James' dream is to become a big shot writer with the desire to have a best-seller. He's written and sent in books before, but no luck. He's tried written short stories, children's stories, poems, and even a few attempted novels. However, none of those were considered good enough to publish. However, this next story that he has planned, he figures it's gonna be HUGE. It's the story about a runaway cat, told from a first-person view of the cat himself. The cat is supposedly trying to figure out how to return home, and how to survive. After giving it much thought, and after receiving the feedback from the other failed attempts, he decided to put his all into his book. It'll be a smash hit. After about fifteen minutes, the teacher finally shows up to first period. The teacher apologizes, "Sorry, I'm late. My dumbass boyfriend doesn't know how to properly set an alarm clock." Upon hearing those words, a light bulb suddenly went off in James' head. Boyfriend… clock… that's it! That's the perfect story! During class, he decided to try and take notes as to the concept of the book in itself. So far, he has the idea of a guy falling in love with an analog clock, something about how digital clocks are about to go outdated, and that he feels nostalgic by them and doesn't want them to fade away… that's what he's come up with so far. Yeah. A story about a guy that has a sexual relationship with an analog clock. It's a strange story, he knows, but he feels it's quite an original story, to the point where it will definitely put him over the top, WAY more than his cat story he's been working on. Once he gets home, he puts way more time and effort coming up with the characters, the plot details, and so on and so forth. Finally, by the time he has to go to sleep, he's already completed two chapters. A few weeks later, he's already completed the book. He's so excited about what he's written, where he feels like a big shot. He feels this will definitely be the book that brings him to success. It's well-written, has great structure, and he feels that he wrote the main character enough to where you'd actually empathize with his romantic relationship about the clock, and why exactly he wanted to marry the clock in the first place. He titles the book "Holding Hands". He sends it in to the first publishing company. A few days later, he gets a call, saying that it was one of the worst things they've ever read. Feeling distraught by this, he decides to try again with a different publishing company. However, a few weeks later, he's given the exact same statement, that it was terrible. He tries over and over again, but nothing really seems to happen. Finally, he decides to give it one last shot. One more publishing company, and if they reject it, he'll scrap the book entirely and possibly resume the cat story that he originally had his eyes on. He sends it in, and… no one contacts him. Days later, not a word. Weeks pass, months. A few years, even. By this point, James has already graduated high school and went to college for writing. His cat story was also rejected, but hopefully he'll be able to write a masterpiece once he graduates and gets his degree. By now, he's also married and has a child on the way. Suddenly, out of the blue, his phone rings. He couldn't believe it. It was the publishing company from a few years back! He answers the phone. "Hello?" A woman answers, "Hello, is this James?" He affirms. She says to him, "I'm just calling to let you know that we've recently read your book you sent us, "Holding Hands"." He says, "Yeah. It's about fucking time."
… but his brother Frank was a monster.
It is comparing apples to origins.
Because he is transparent
I don’t know. I don’t speak French.
I told her this isn’t working out
Wanna go ride bikes?
Picked him up in a night club. He looked like a woman. Smelled like a woman. Danced like a woman. Even kissed like a woman, but as we arrived back at his apartment he reversed his car into a tight parking slot in one fluid movement!…. That's when I thought "Fucking hell there's something wrong here"
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In a blink of an eye it exploded into massive flames. The alarm went out to all the fire departments for miles around. When the fire fighters appeared on the scene, the chemical company president rushed to the fireman in charge and said, "All our secret formulas are in the vault in the centre of the plant. They must be saved. I will give 50,000 pounds to the fire department that brings them out intact." But the roaring flames held the fire-fighters off. Soon more fire departments had to be called in as the situation became desperate. As the firemen arrived, the president shouted out that the offer was now 100,000 pounds to the fire station who could bring out the company's secret files. But still the fire fighters could not get through. From the distance, a lone siren was heard as another fire truck came into sight. It was the nearby rural township volunteer fire brigade, composed mainly of old men over 65. To everyone's amazement, that little run-down fire engine roared right past all the newer sleek engines that were parked outside the plant. Without even slowing down it drove straight into the middle of the inferno. Outside, the other firemen watched as the old timers jumped off right in the middle of the fire and fought it back on all sides. It was a performance and effort never seen before. Within a short time, the old timers had extinguished the fire and had saved the secret formulas. The grateful chemical company president announced that for such a superhuman feat he was upping the reward to 200,000 pounds and walked over to personally thank each of the brave fire fighters. The local TV station caught the thank you on film and asked the chief, "What are you going to do with all that money?" "Well," said Paddy, the 70-year-old fire chief, "the first thing we're gonna do is fix the brakes on that bloody fire truck."
…But kept the land. Sounds oddly familiar.
I think that something scary is about to happen, I can feel it.
I have got some news for her.
“Now class, I won’t tolerate any excuses for you not being here tomorrow. I might consider a nuclear attack or a serious personal injury, illness, or a death in your immediate family, but that’s it, no other excuses whatsoever!” A smart-ass guy in the back of the room raised his hand and asked, “What would you say if tomorrow I said I was suffering from complete and utter sexual exhaustion?” The entire class is reduced to laughter and snickering. When silence is restored, the teacher smiles knowingly at the student, shakes her head sweetly. “Well, I guess you’d have to write the exam with your other hand.”
I yelled, "Are you crazy?!" He waved me off, saying, "It's OK, my brother does it all the time." The next light was red too, and he just sailed on through again. "You're gonna get us killed," I shouted. And he again replied, "It's OK, my brother does it all the time." The next light was green, so I was feeling better, but my cousin slammed on the brakes. I asked, "Now what?" He said, "Gotta be careful, my brother might be coming the other way."
Good players are hard to find.
Seriously, how low can you go?!
Between you and me, something smells.
Donald Trump and Barack Obama end up in the same barbershop As they sat there, each being worked on by a different barber, not a word was spoken. The barbers were even afraid to start a conversation, for fear that it would turn into politics. As the barbers finished their shaves, the one who had Trump in his chair reached for the aftershave. Trump was quick to stop him saying "No way buddy, my wife will smell that and think I've been in a damn whorehouse." The second barber turned to Obama and said "How about you?" Obama replied, "Go ahead, my wife doesn't know what the inside of a whorehouse smells like.
Our daughter Chewbacca, not so much.
"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I have been with a loose girl." The priest asks, "Is that you, little Joey Pagano?" "Yes, Father, it is." "And who was the girl you were with?" "I can't tell you, Father. I don't want to ruin her reputation." "Well, Joey, I'm sure to find out her name sooner or later so you may as well tell me now. Was it Tina Minetti?" "I cannot say." "Was it Teresa Mazzarelli?" "I'll never tell." "Was it Nina Capelli?" "I'm sorry, but I cannot name her." "Was it Cathy Piriano?" "My lips are sealed." "Was it Rosa DiAngelo, then?" "Please, Father, I cannot tell you." The priest sighs in frustration. "You're very tight lipped, and I admire that. But you've sinned and have to atone. You cannot be an altar boy now for 4 months. Now you go and behave yourself." Joey walks back to his pew, and his friend Franco slides over and whispers, "What'd you get?" "Four months vacation and five good leads!"
Unless you count Dracula.
He told me that I don’t have a psychiatrist.
They didn’t do anything
And then it dawned on me.
A chicken pie in jamaica costs £2.00 A chicken pie in trinidad costs £2.15 A chicken pie in st kitts costs. £2.30
These are the pie-rates of the carribean
A Popesicle! Get it? Because it's holy. My kids didn't get it either…
The first says: “Windy isn’t it?” The second says: “Wednesday? Isn’t it Thursday?” The third says: “Thirsty? Let’s order some drinks!”