The creator of mad libs died this week.
His friends described him as a warm and pulpy man who loved his wife and pelicans. He will be deeply pooped.
That diagnosis really came out of the purple
So that he has 3 squared meals per day
Sit on a couch and look comfortable.
You look for fresh prints.
Since i was a young boy my father has imposed his religion onto me. I was home schooled because we live in the west and my father wanted me in an environment that was free from anything Haram. I couldn't associate with Hindus or Christians, anyone who ate unclean animals, or any girl. As a teenage guy going through puberty this was naturally a living nightmare. After years of begging from me and pressure from his colleagues, i was finally allowed to attend a very nice coed high school. The only rule was that i had to keep avoiding anything Haram. Being free for the first time i started to celebrate. Ate bacon my first day, had Hindu friends in a week, and within the month i had even met a girl. I was shy and awkward as i could possibly be but she liked me and thought i was funny. She was a little too hipster punk for me, listing to music i've never heard and using words like tubular and bae, but i loved it. Within two months we were dating. It was going great until my father heard about it. The Hindus and bacon he could overlook, but the women to him were really wrong. To him this was too much and he even claimed me of having sex with her. As if it couldn't get any weirder he actually demanded i show him my penis to prove i haven't been having sex. I had to ask him twice to make sure i heard him right. It was awkward but living under his roof i had to do as he commands. I started to go out with her on dates and every time i came home i had to whip it out for dad. It might be insane, but i actually am ok with dicks out for haram bae.
So now we call him Dav
He had a vowel movement.
I crack myself up sometimes. I went grocery shopping earlier today and when I got home the wife asked “where are the mushrooms?” … without missing a beat, I said
“I couldn’t get them, there wasn’t ‘mush room’ in the trolley. “ She threw things at me
They were free of charge!
A burglar broke into a house one night. He shone his flashlight around, looking for valuables when a voice in the dark said: “Jesus knows you’re here.”
He nearly jumped out of his skin, clicked his flashlight off, and froze. When he heard nothing more, after a bit, he shook his head and continued. Just as he pulled the stereo out so he could disconnect the wires, clear as a bell he heard: “Jesus is watching you.” Freaked out, he shined his light around frantically, looking for the source of the voice. Finally, in the corner of the room, his flashlight beam came to rest on a parrot. “Did you say that?” he hissed at the parrot. “Yep,” the parrot confessed, then squawked. “I’m just trying to warn you that he is watching you.” The burglar relaxed. “Warn me, huh? Who in the world are you?” “Moses,” replied the bird. “Moses?” the burglar laughed. “What kind of people would name a bird Moses?” “The kind of people that would name a Rottweiler Jesus.”
It was the least I could have done for him.
We really need to raise the bar
A 50 Cent concert featuring Nickelback.
The people in Dubai don't like the Flintstones, but the people in Abu Dhabi do.
He yelled back, "Nah, I didn't pay for my haircut!"
He always leaves you hanging
There were two finalists – one from the most prestigious university in the country, the other a country bumpkin from out West. They were each given 20 seconds to compose a poem about Timbuktu. Up steps the university student and he goes: "On the lonely desert sands, Crossed a lonely caravan. Men on camels, Two by two. Destination, Timbuktu." The crowd went wild – amazing for 20 seconds. Then it's the country bumpkin's turn: "Tim and I Off hunting went. Found three girls In a pop up tent. They were three, And we were two So I bucked one And Tim buck two."
…makes the game Monopoly.
Once there, he finds that there is a different hell for each country, so he tries to seek out the least painful one. At the door to German Hell, he is told: "First they put you in an electric chair for an hour. Then they lay you on a bed of nails for another hour. Then the German devil comes in and whips you for the rest of the day." He does not like the sound of that, so he checks out American Hell, Russian Hell and many more. They are all similarly gruesome. However, at Nigerian Hell a long line of people is waiting to get in. Amazed, he asks, "What do they do here?" He is told: "First they put you in an electric chair for an hour. Then they lay you on a bed of nails for another hour. Then the Nigerian devil comes in and whips you for the rest of the day." "But that's the same as the others," says the man. "Why are so many people waiting to get in?" "Because of the power cuts, the electric chair does not work. The nails were paid for but never supplied, so the bed is comfortable. And the Nigerian devil used to be a civil servant, so he comes in, signs his time sheet and goes back home for private business.
One gent stops to discuss the matter: “See here, Sister- it’s really not fair for you to stand there and scold people on a subject on which you yourself have no experience. I mean- have you ever even tried alcohol? Even once?” “Most certainly not!” the nun says, blushing. “Well listen- wouldn’t it make a little sense if you at least tried some before you knocked it?” The nun thinks about it, then says- “Perhaps you’re right.” “Okay! Now we’re talking! What would you like to try?” “I’ve heard something about a… Fuzzy Navel with a twist of lemon.” “Comin’ right up, Sister!” The guy walks in and orders a Fuzzy Navel with a twist of lemon. The bartender goes- “A Fuzzy Navel with a twist of le— IS THAT NUN OUT THERE AGAIN?!?”
Me: I was just listening to the radio on my way in to town, apparently an actress just killed herself. Friend: Seriously!? Who!? Me: Uh, I can't remember… I think her name was Reese something? Friend: WITHERSPOON!!?? Me: No, it was with a knife…
My preferred pronouns are He/Hee
Because you don't know what he laces them with and you'll be tripping all day.
A North American Elk walks into a pizzeria and sits at an empty table while he waits for the waiter. The waiter hands him a menu and the Elk ponders for a bit. He's not really in the mood for pizza, so he narrows it down to pasta. The Elk is finally ready to order, so he calls for the waiter. The waiter asks him what he wants, and the Elk hesitates for a second. "Locomotive." The waiter is puzzled. "What?" "Land Rover." "Sir, that's not on the menu." "Lake Michigan." The waiter is unsure what to say. Frustrated, the Elk brings his leg up on the table to point out what he wants on the menu. "This is what I want." "Sir, you don't have any fingers… I can't tell what you're pointing at." "Just give me the damn spaghetti."
As soon as I got him home he made a Bolt for the Door.
Jack is not normally a drinker, but the drinks didn’t taste like alcohol at all. He didn’t even remember how he got home from the party… As bad as he was feeling, he wondered if he did something wrong. Jack had to force himself to open his eyes, and the first thing he sees is a couple of aspirins next to a glass of water on the side table. And, next to them, a single red rose!! Jack sits up and sees his clothing in front of him, all clean and pressed. He looks around the room and sees that it is in perfect order, spotlessly clean. So is the rest of the house. He takes the aspirins, cringes when he sees a huge black eye staring back at him in the bathroom mirror. Then he notices a note hanging on the corner of the mirror written in red with little hearts on it and a kiss mark from his wife in lipstick: “Honey, breakfast is on the stove, I left early to get groceries to make you your favorite dinner tonight. I love you, darling! Love, Jillian”. He stumbles to the kitchen and sure enough, there is hot breakfast, steaming hot coffee and the morning newspaper. His 16 year old son is also at the table, eating. Jack asks, “Son… what happened last night?” “Well, you came home after 3 A.M., drunk and out of your mind. You fell over the coffee table and broke it, and then you puked in the hallway, and got that black eye when you ran into the door.” Confused, he asked his son, “So, why is everything in such perfect order and so clean? I have a rose, and breakfast is on the table waiting for me??” His son replies, “Oh THAT… Mom dragged you to the bedroom, and when she tried to take your pants off, you screamed, “Leave me alone, I’m married!!”
Well, at least that's been my experience so far.
But the odds were against them
Once with her and 9 in the shower trying to wash it off
I confronted him and said, “Mark, my words!”
Or at least that's what I read in her diary