The women- know your limits!

But none of them work.

Your pupils, they Dilate

Guess not

I heard they're big metal fans.

It’s not the end of the word.

It's 150 minus the number of rolls of toilet paper you have at home.

For my black jeep…

A joke has meaning.

THAT'S A SALT!

But I can't see myself wearing it

Wierd-O's!

After you’ve reddit.

… but his brother Frank was a monster.

On the one hand, you get to wear a pretty cool ring. On the other hand, you don’t.

You have to do it bit by bit.

he's odd.

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He says "Doc, you have to help me! I think I am a moth!" The Dentist says "I can't help you, I'm a dentist, you need a psychiatrist. Why did you even come in here?" The man replies "The light was on."

All I wanted was one nightstand.

Christmas was coming and Little Johnny’s Mom and Dad took him to the mall to a see Santa Claus. Johnny walked up and sat on Santa’s lap and said “Santa, for Christmas I want a god damn new baseball bat and I want it to be put under my god damn bed. I want a god damn new baseball glove, and I want it put under the god damn Christmas tree. And Santa, I want a god damn new bike and I want it put under a god damn tarp in the god damn shed.” Santa, in complete shock, pulled Little Johnny’s parents aside and said “In all my years, I have never seen a little boy with such a foul mouth.” His parents replied “We know, but we have no idea what to do about his behavior. We’ve tried everything.” Santa thought about it and said “Here’s what we’ll do to teach him a lesson, every place that Johnny asked for a present, we’ll put a pile of dog poop.” The parents agreed to try Santa’s plan. On Christmas morning, Little Johnny woke up and immediately looked under his bed. Seeing the pile of poop, he ran downstairs to the Christmas tree and checked underneath. Finding another pile of poop under the tree, he ran out the door and threw open the shed door. Finding a tarp in the shed, he quickly pulled back the tarp and found yet another pile of poop. Johnny walked out of the shed and started looking all around the yard. After a while his parents asked him sarcastically “So Little Johnny, what did you get for Christmas?” Without missing a beat, Johnny looked at his parents and said “I think I got a god damned dog, but I can’t find the motherfucker!”

1forrest1

For hispanic attacks

They are having such a good time that they decide to play hooky and skip out on their Monday exam in psychology. They all send their professor an email saying they had a flat tire while out of town and the professor said no problem, unexpected things happen. They could take it on Tuesday. Celebrating their white lie they had another big night out and headed back on Monday. When they got back on campus Tuesday they went and saw their professor and she asked if they were all right, thanked them for letting her know ahead of time, and told them to get ready for the test. Inwardly laughing they were separated into four separate rooms so as not to cheat. All four flipped over the sheet and saw only two questions: For 5% credit, what does DSM stand for in the DSM-5? For 95% credit, which tire went flat?

An Oopsie-daisy!

You ever wonder if the reason Star Wars movies came out the order they came out was because Yoda was in charge of the release dates?

They don't wanna compete with an invisible power that actually works.

teleban

R, I, and the seven c’s (Say aloud) XD this made me laugh, hope it brightens your day

Corona did what Trump promised

Maybe the question was to pursonal.

Nice belt

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An old west dime novel writer is out looking for a good story when he wanders into a saloon. He sees a group of rough rider lookin' scoundrels playing poker and he musters up enough courage to sit down with 'em (thinkin' he might get a story out if he was lucky). "Mind if I play?" The others look up with a scowl that would curdle milk, but one looks at the clock and shakes his head. He points out the time to the others and they gather up their chips and go. "Play alone, we're a-leavin'. Wild Bill's comin' to town." The writer is confused, but smells a story brewing; a strong one at that. He hoofs it up to the bar, passing most other patrons on their way out, and slaps a whole dollar bill on the table, "Barkeep, give me a beer and a story, and you can keep the change." After taking a quick glance at the clock, the bartender shakes his head, pours the beer, and pushes the bill back to the reporter. "The drink is on the house, but I suggest you drink it quick and leave. Wild Bill is coming to town." Without another word the 'tender puts his last glass away and walks right out the swinging doors, leaving the reporter in an empty bar. Now fear in his gut tears at him as he hears the emptiness in that bar. This emptiness seems to seep in as he realizes that he's about to be the last man in this town, alone with only the sound of that ticking clock to keep him company. Still, a story of this caliber must be worth something; so he waits… Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, Bong<CRACK!>- Just as the clock strikes the first chime of twelve, a sound like thunder splitting a mountain is heard outside. The reporter runs to the doors to see what it is. In the distance and closing fast is a tornado coming right for the bar. The reporter hits the ground and watches as the tornado comes up to the bar and stops. The wind settles and there is a giant of a man riding a grizzly bear. He steps off the bear, and instead of hitching it, he punches the great beast right in the face <WHAM!>, knocking it cold on the ground. The reporter is so scared he runs back into the bar and dives behind the counter, sure that this is the last of his days. <KaPLOW!> the giant kicks in the saloon doors, and they turn to splinters that imbed themselves into the walls and break bottles and glasses that they touch. The man walks up to the bar, breaking every floor board with each thundering step. He looks down at the reporter and slams his fist on the bar, cracking it down the middle, "GIMME A DRINK!" The reporter comes up, shakily holding out two bottles of whisky; which the giant snatches up, chews the glass tops off of, and drinks down as fast as the amber liquid can spill from the bottles. He throws both bottles in the air, whips out his six-shooter and fires off a round. The single bullet rips through both bottles showering the reporter with shards that rain down. Regretting his curiosity and repenting of his life, the reporter stands on weakened legs and whimpers out, "W-w-w-would y-you like a-another drink?" The man turns to him, fire in his eyes, then glances at the clock… "Nah, I gotta go. Wild Bill's comin' to town."

With an itheberg.

That’s ridiculous. My dogs don’t even own bikes

It's white and settles on their land

It runs in your Jeans.

Probably won't have it again. It was just a novelty

Obviously not