When Hurricane Dorian hits Florida, I'm going to check out my window for the clouds to get really grey. When they're at peak greyness I'll take a picture. That way Ill always have The Picture of Dorian Grey.
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πŸ“…︎ Aug 30 2019
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I was going to drink my friend's earl grey...

But I didn't really want to. It's not my cup of tea.

πŸ‘︎ 5
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πŸ‘€︎ u/appa-ate-momo
πŸ“…︎ Mar 10 2017
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Should I go see Fifty Shades of Grey in a regular theater? Or...

... should I pay a little extra and see it in clIMAX?

πŸ‘︎ 70
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πŸ‘€︎ u/patriotminerva
πŸ“…︎ Feb 13 2015
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I used to go over to my grandmother's house in the middle of the night and drink earl grey with her. It was our ritual. I called this evening out of habit, forgetting she had passed away, and her ghost answered.

I guess you could call it a boo-tea call.

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πŸ‘€︎ u/NWmba
πŸ“…︎ Oct 31 2015
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Dad Jokes

It was a brisk Saturday morning when Gerald arrived at β€œThe CafΓ©,” a hip coffee shop right down the street. Wearing his large, burly black coat, he stared hesitantly at his watch. Thick glasses adorned his bright blue eyes, his gaze like starlight in a clear night sky. He was waiting, intently twiddling his thumbs. After a buzz of his phone, the message from Dad popped up: β€œParking now, be there in 5.”

β€œDad,” he whispered under his breath, swiping the message away to once again reveal the image on his lock-screen: a hazy picture of an ultrasound.

Gerald had not spoken to his father for three years. They had had a falling out, over which he did not remember. To him it was a competition of who could wait the longest without calling or sending a text. Who could wait the longest: him without a father, or his father without a son? The idea of friction in the relationship hurt like a thorn; piercing his soul more and more everyday. Until recently, out of the blue, β€œDad” popped up on his phone. The rest is history. The rest leads to that Saturday morning, at The CafΓ©.

Bang! A car door rang out not too far from where Gerald stood. Gerald saw him. His father wore his tweed jacket like a coat of armor. His strut was now weaker than before they stopped talking; a weakness evident in his cane which supported every right step. His shortly trimmed white beard juxtaposed against his uncut, curly grey hair gave him the image of a wise wizard from a fairytale. He used to be that figure to Gerald, yet instead of a nice ancient being acting like a stone to keep him grounded, Gerald had felt as though his father was a rock pulling him deeper and deeper into a sea of monotony. Holding him back from his true potential. Maybe that was why he left? He still did not know.

β€œHello, son,” came the withered voice Gerald had sook for so long, yet now that it had arrived wanted to avoid. β€œI can’t believe it’s been so long!”

β€œYeah,” said Gerald, allowing a smile to grace his face. β€œToo long!”

Then they hugged, signifying a change in their relationship. Gerald had hoped something could happen to bring them closer together. He did not want to go on wondering what could have been. The regret and sadness weighed him down. Before starting a new family, Gerald wanted to be reacquainted with his own.

After finding their table and sitting down, the two began to discuss life. It was like old friends catching up after a long break. Although it took some time, Gerald began to warm u

... keep reading on reddit ➑

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πŸ‘€︎ u/sullyrr
πŸ“…︎ Oct 08 2020
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My food truck idea

Food truck with eggs being the theme in every dish.

"The Poach Coach"

Popular dishes:

  1. Eggs Been a Dick (2 poached eggs and 1 average but adequate size sausage)
  2. Omelette that one slide (you're choice of filling, but don't fucking test me)
  3. The Dwight Yolk Em' (served in a plastic cowboy hat to go. Must eat while walking the streets of Bakersfield) 4.The Mr. Burns Eggcellent Scramble (smithered with cheese)
  4. The Quiche a Grey (oralgasmic quiche with a money shot of sausage gravy)
  5. The John Denver Omelette (full of all kinds of shit)
  6. Jesus'ed egg (basically a deviled egg only more judgmental and boiled in holy water)
πŸ‘︎ 5
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πŸ‘€︎ u/sakibombs85
πŸ“…︎ Jan 26 2020
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A struggling young news reporter was having trouble getting good sound bites from the politicians she was sent out to interview, so she invited an experienced colleague out to dinner to ask for advice.

The would-be mentor insisted on going to a seafood restaurant and then he ordered his favorite meal for the both of them. When the hard working, fresh-out-of-journalism-school grad asked the veteran newshound how he always managed to get witty phrases from the Prime Ministers and Presidents he interviewed, a sly smile swam across his face.

Intrigued, she watched intently while he reached for his wallet then removed a €5 note. Holding it toward her face over the table, she was surprised when the greying beat writer dropped the money directly on her uneaten dinner and held an index finger to his closed lips.

As they both looked down at the seafood platter, his paper Euro was suddenly sucked under the rings of fried calamari until it disappeared from sight. After what sounded like a stand-up comedian clearing his throat, a male voice with an Eastern European accent clearly rose out of her food. It said, "Trump asked for dirt on Biden so I sent him some good Ukrainian topsoil."

As the gobsmacked gal with mouth agape slowly raised her eyes to her grinning dinner guest's face, he shrugged his shoulders and said, "squid pro quote".

Required Explanation: "squid pro quote" is a play on words for the saying "quid pro quo", a Latin phrase meaning "something for something". In the news at the time of this posting a tremendous amount of discussion is being circulated about whether or not US president Trump dangled a quid pro quo offer in front of Ukraine's newly elected president, Volodymyr Zelensky. The deal had nothing to do with seafood however, so that was just a red herring. It should also be noted that Mr. Zelensky, before diving into politics, was a stand-up comedian.

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πŸ‘€︎ u/podgress
πŸ“…︎ Nov 07 2019
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A communist walks into a bar

He orders nothing, and instead just sits down at the bar and begins reading a newspaper.

β€œWhat’ll it be?” Asked the bartender.

β€œNothing.” Replied the communist, his face concealed behind the newspaper.

β€œYou don’t want anything?” Said the bartender.

β€œNo!” Replied the communist.

β€œLook,” said the bartender β€œyou can’t just sit at the bar and read without ordering anything. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

β€œDo you know who I am?” Asked the communist, as he slowly lowered the newspaper, revealing combed back black and grey hair, a large, bushy mustache, and a neatly kept Officer uniform with two gold stars pinned to the left breast.

The bartender stepped back, shocked. β€œWell now you’re just Stalin!”

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πŸ‘€︎ u/jhabibs
πŸ“…︎ Jun 09 2018
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A soccer referee told me this one during my game an hour ago

(A bit of context first, but you can skip this paragraph if you want). An hour or so ago, I was playing a div 1 co-ed soccer game. Since our captain wasn't there, I was the one talking to the ref, signing the game sheet, providing the game ball, and all that. At some point during the game, one of our guys shot the ball and it rebounded off, giving us a corner. However, none of our guys were going to get the ball as if they thought it was the other team's ball. I yelled at my team "Guys, it's our corner!"

The ref turned to me and laughed, and said "They need to concentrate". I said "No kidding, huh?" He then turned to me with a pre-dadjoke smile and asked me "Why didn't the orange juice pass its exam? ... It couldn't concentrate."

It was in that moment that I knew this grey haired, bearded man was a father of at least one child. He didn't even look back for a reaction, he just turned with his dad smile, knowing full well that the joke has merit enough on its own regardless of a reaction.

πŸ‘︎ 26
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πŸ‘€︎ u/bearkin1
πŸ“…︎ Oct 26 2013
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