If your onion sang hip-hop, would that be a rapscallion?
I used to be an astronaut, but I got tired of eating out of satellite dishes. I wasn't allowed to eat the Milky Way, even though I had to look at it every day. The worst thing was, I never got to visit The Space Bar. Then, when I was visiting the dark side of the moon, I was bitten by a parasite. Now, you might think it's crazy, but the doctor who removed it called it a lunar-tick.
If "womb" is pronounced "woom" and "tomb" is pronounced "toom", shouldn't "bomb" be pronounced "boom"?
China recently tested a new steroid. It basically turns you into The Hulk. The side effect is it could turn you into a crazed zombie that tends to rip the upper extremities from people. People are saying that this could be the zombie apocalypse. In my opinion, lips have nothing to do with it. I call it ARMageddon. The only way to stay safe now is to not let anyone close enough to disarm you.
I recently was going to join the railroad union. I decided against it because it's complicated. If I received instruction on driving the locomotive, would they call it engineering, or training?
I got a sad story about a flower. I don't know who the heck she pissed off, but damn, now she's a Black-Eyed Susan.
I finally figured out what makes leaves angry. Fall. They get so mad they change color. Some are yellow. They're just afraid and run from their problems. The other ones usually just leave.
I went parachuting with my military buddies once. We landed on a department store. I told him I think we're at the wrong coordinates. He said: "Nope. We're right on Target"
I asked a psychologist if Native Americans have strong emotions. He said "Oh yeah, they're intense".
If a psychotic person thought something made sense, would that thought be psychological?
If Matt Damon were searching for a secondhand store, would he be Goodwill Hunting?
My friend is a Marksman for the military. One day, he went to the armory and asked for 3 snipers. They gave him a candy bar. It was a 3 Musketeers.
I want to be there if Dwayne Johnson ever uses a pizza stone. That way I can smell what "The Rock" is cookin'.
Christopher bought a lemon, and the car broke down. Now Christopher Walken.
Have you heard about the latest bank battle on Wall Street? Capital One and Chase got in a fight and Capital One.
You know what a pirate says to his wenches when he sees the shoreline? "LAND HO!"
A man finds a lamp in the desert and dusts it off. Poof! A genie p
... keep reading on reddit ➡Hey guys. As I'm sure most of you know, it's currently Thanksgiving in Canada. This time of year for me has, in the past, caused a lot of issues in my life.
To give a little bit of background on me, I'm usually an extremely healthy and fit guy, as I play high-level sports and have a physically demanding job. However, for much of my life, my willpower began to crumble around this time of year.
I first started taking my diet seriously when I was about 12 years old. I had some kind of realization where like, I dunno, I started looking at how jacked these movie stars were and was all, "wow, I want to be that cool too." Judging by the bowl cut I had when I was 12, my perception of cool may have been a little skewed, but I digress.
Anyhow, it was my first Thanksgiving where everything started falling apart. One of my relative's families ended up no-showing for dinner, so we were left with a load of Thanksgiving leftovers. For the next week, every single meal or snack I had was Thanksgiving themed. Sandwich? Turkey sandwich. Breakfast? Let's dollop some cranberry sauce on that bad boy. By the next week, my BGC (blood gravy content) was probably at like 1.0%.
You'd think I'd be sick of holiday food after that. But no. I loved it.
The tradition of refrigerated Thanksgiving snacks continued throughout the rest of my teen years. Like clockwork, the numbers on the scale would significantly jump upwards in October, with Halloween candy adding an extra layer of calories on top. By the time I reached 17, my waist had begun noticeably ballooning, and I realized it was all due to Thanksgiving turkey. Sure, I had some at Christmas and sometimes at Easter, but never like that. My mother would encourage this habit, making more food each year to be stuffed into our packed refrigerator.
The movie star bod I wanted for so much at the age of 12 was slipping a way. I needed to put an end to this.
Flash forward to October 2015, age 18. I had made a vow: I never again would place such putrid poultry onto my tastebuds. And ever since that fateful week of 2014, my vow had held true.
Each Thanksgiving, I can feel that craving for chilled turkey knocking on the refrigerator door of my fragile ego. For three years, I've held strong. But when will the garrison fall? When will that soft, biting flesh of the big bird smash it's way back into my life.
But so far, I've quit cold turkey.
After a long night of packing for the beach and watching movies, my family had to get up extremely early to start driving to the beach. About 3 hours into the drive, we pull over at a Hardee's so my family could use the restroom. Upon getting back into the car and being the extremely tired person he is, my father proceeds to point across the street to a very large pile of tires in a gas station parking lot and says "Wow, I'm tired." He smiled; we groaned. It was agonizing.
