High top Puns

I bought a pair of shoes from a drug dealer. I don't know what they were laced with but I was tripping all day.

I wanna commit suislide

It was a challenge, but I stepped up to the plate.

When in the interrogation room, he told my grandfather

"vee haf vays of making you tock!"

I like big buttes and I cannot lie

And I say, "yeah I got in way over my head."

but it's certainly up there.

I don’t know what he laced them with but I’m trippin’

But it's definitely up there.

And I just couldn’t put it down

Dad pointed to a red area near the top of my knee that was obviously the injury and said “where does it hurt? Is it your high knee, (then he points much lower) or your low knee?”

I respond, “it’s my high knee.”

Dad says, “it’s your heinie??! I thought you hurt your knee!”

I remember being furious. I have now pulled this one on my five year old, and I can’t wait until my one year old is old enough to be on the receiving end of it as well.

He quickly achieved the rank of “treem ”, rather high up in the rankings. However, it was not long lasting, as after a series of events he was demoted. His parents grew very annoyed of hearing him talking about having been a treem, his unfair demotion, and how much he hated his new position. Now, the gamer’s family often made little newspapers to share personal achievements and events with their family.

This weeks top headline read, “ex-treem dissed appointment”.

Ask where it hurts and then say "oh so you hurt your High-knee" if it's the top of the knee, or "oh you hurt your Below-knee" if it's lower. My dumbest but favorite joke I've come up with.

He wasn’t the top of his class, but his grades here in the high C’s...

Setting: My partner and I are sitting on the couch watching the Leafs v Bruins hockey game

Background: my partner loves puns, LOVES them and makes like 20+ pun jokes a day. I’m horrible with puns and have made like two in my entire life.

Here’s what happened: Hockey game: Boston dude is on the ground, leafs dude is on top of him, looks like there’s going to be a fight

Me: looks like there’s a fight a-brewin’

Partner: BRUIN! A-BRUIN (chuckles manically)

Me: damn, I just fell backwards right into that

Him: of course you didn’t do it on purpose (still chuckling, high fives me)

I was so impressed with my accidental pun My first thought was - I have to share this on reddit! (He’s still chuckling, btw)

Edited for formatting (mobile user, yada yada)

I bought a 2004 VW Beetle Turbo a few months ago. While driving down the road, I heard a sort of mechanical shifting sound whenever I went over 45 MPH. I didn't think anything of it at first, but it continued every single time. I finally turned to Google to make sure my car wasn't broken. Found out that the Turbo models have a hidden spoiler at the top of the rear windshield that pops out at high speeds.

Relaying the story to my friend later, I told her, "I guess the dealership should have given me a....spoiler alert."

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.

I told the butcher I'd give him $10 if he got the meat down off the top shelf. He said he couldn't.... the steaks were too high.

I was at my favorite store shopping for a good NY Strip for dinner. I thought they were all out but I saw that someone had stashed two on the top of the shelf just out of reach.

I was going to take a chance and climb up to get them, but the steaks were too high.

Because he might Pikachu!

I used to get to do these all the times. When the drawer got stuck I would wrestle the obstruction inside blocking it and exclaim that this would not be a problem if we just had a lesser cheese grater...I began to love bombing there for a while. Ah...

Edit- no one got the grater joke then either, don't feel bad. but it was on the spot so it didn't need all the setup i ruined here. Try this for your brains: Our drawers often had a lot of utensils and stuff in them, and some of it was also big, like the cheese grater. That would get jostled and end up on top of a fork pile or whatever and be up high enough in the drawer to keep the thing from opening, ie the drawer would open to where the grater hit the back of it and jam the works up, right? the grater was too great. i needed a lesser grater so the drawer wouldnt get jammed. Did that help?

I say Middle Eastern cuz I honestly forget if he's Iraqi or Iranian. We were getting to know each other, and I asked him to tell me a fable from his country of origin. It went like this:

Ali: In (the town he grew up in), there is a tower. A very very tall tower, many stories high, with only stairs. And legend says that if you climb all the way to the very top...

(pause)

Me: What happens?

Ali: completely straight face You will get very dizzy.

That was it. I thought it was hilarious.

I have written this book to sweep away all misunderstandings about the crafty art of punnery and to convince you that the pun is well worth celebrating.... After all, the pun is mightier than the sword, and these days you are much more likely to run into a pun than into a sword. [A pun is a witticism involving the playful use of a word in different senses, or of words which differ in meaning but sound alike.]

Scoffing at puns seems to be a conditioned reflex, and through the centuries a steady barrage of libel and slander has been aimed at the practice of punning. Nearly three hundred years ago John Dennis sneered, “A pun is the lowest form of wit,” a charge that has been butted and rebutted by a mighty line of pundits and punheads.

Henry Erskine, for example, has protested that if a pun is the lowest form of wit, “It is, therefore, the foundation of all wit.” Oscar Levant has added a tag line: “A pun is the lowest form of humor—when you don’t think of it first.” John Crosbie and Bob Davies have responded to Dennis with hot, cross puns: “...If someone complains that punning is the lowest form of humor you can tell them that poetry is verse.”

Samuel Johnson, the eighteenth century self-appointed custodian of the English language, once thundered, “To trifle with the vocabulary which is the vehicle of social intercourse is to tamper with the currency of human intelligence. He who would violate the sanctities of his mother tongue would invade the recesses of the national till without remorse... ”

Joseph Addison pronounced that the seeds of punning are in the minds of all men, and tho’ they may be subdued by reason, reflection, and good sense, they will be very apt to shoot up in the greatest genius, that which is not broken and cultivated by the rules of art.

Far from being invertebrate, the inveterate punster is a brave entertainer. He or she loves to create a three-ring circus of words: words clowning, words teetering on tightropes, words swinging from tent tops, words thrusting their head into the mouths of lions. Punnery can be highly entertaining, but it is always a risky business. The humor can fall on its face, it can lose its balance and plunge into the sawdust, or it can be decapitated by the snapping shut of jaws. While circus performers often receive laughter or applause for their efforts, punsters often draw an obligatory groan for theirs. But the fact that most people groan at, rather than laugh at, puns doesn’t mean that the punnery isn’t fu

Last weekend, a group of friends, my girlfriend, and I were waiting in line for a concert in the city. While we were standing around, my girlfriend excitedly started pointing at a hotel a few blocks away.

"Look at the top of that building! I think that's an indoor pool on the top floor!"

Because it was hard to tell and we were bored in line, a debate started about whether it not it was actually a pool, until I stated that it was obviously a bar.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because nice hotels like to set the bar high."

I've never been prouder to make a group of people groan.

There once was a man from the Ukraine named Ivan Ivanavich. Now Ivan and his family were dirt poor, in fact they were so poor, that they had to sell the cockroaches and rats they found in their hovel to make some spare change to to feed their many family members. One day, Ivan decided it was time to travel to the United States to try and have a better life and miraculously he managed to get aboard a ship to the States. Now his journey on this ship was miserable, he was down in the bowels of the ship, which was flooded with rats and feces, but he hunkered down and gave it his all to survive this terrible journey. finally, one day he hears commotion above, they had arrived at last. Ivan walks up to the topside of the old ship and sees the New York Harbor. He stands there amazed seeing such a beautiful sight. Ivan starts his life in New York but he doesn't have a significantly better life than the one he left behind. Nobody is interested in hiring immigrants but eventually he lands himself a gig of selling old newspapers. He would go through garbage cans to find old papers and would sell them to people in the poorer part of town. He makes slightly more spare change, but not really enough to live a better life. In his spare time, which he had plenty, he decides to start free diving in the bay. He goes there each day, and started to get really good at it. One day, an owner of a Circus spots him diving and is amazed at how good he is. He decides to offer Ivan a job at his circus doing performance diving. Ivan eagerly accepts and begins his career as a circus member performing amazing high jumps into really small containers of water. After a few months of doing this he suggests to the owner one amazing jump to wow everyone and put his circus on top of the entertainment world. The owner contemplates this and eventually agrees. He rents a ship much like the one Ivan arrived in and placed the smallest container yet. The radio and tv crews, journalist all arrive to spectate the event of a lifetime. The hour arrives and Ivan begins his climb up a massive lighthouse on the edge of the cliff, and the ship is positioned into place beneath him. Ivan is very nervous but decides it's go time, and jumps from the massive lighthouse. As Ivan falls, he takes perfect form heading straight towards his target. As he dives a sudden wave pushes the ship ever slightly throwing off the careful alignment. Ivan hits the deck and goes straight through the top of the ship. The spectato

I put the beef on the top shelf but I'm worried it may fall off...I'm good at catching but the steaks are pretty high

We're walking into Home Depot or Lowe's sometime in November 2007. For whatever reason (probably $) this store had displayed their Christmas trees by tying a rope around the trunk a few strong branches down from the top and hanging them to normal level from the rafters instead of mounting them in some sort of water. My dad makes some comment about this "Oh, look, they hung the trees."

Without thinking or even realizing what I'm about to say, I respond: "They must have committed High Treason."

Paul has a shitty life, his wife constantly berates him, his job sucks, his boss is a bully, his car is a shitty 85 ford pinto with a cracked windshield and is in bad need of a new transmission and to top it all off he's chubby, balding, and he has a small penis.

The only thing good in Paul's life is his friend Artie. Artie isn't the brightest bulb in the world, but he's always been there for Paul in the tough times. On October 5, 1953 Artie stood up for Paul against his bully in 7th grade. Artie got his ass handed to him at that time, but so did Paul. That incident resulted in a life long friendship. Paul and Artie went to the same High School together. They traveled around Europe that one summer in college. Artie was Paul's best man at his wedding. Everyone thought speech Artie gave was terrible, But Paul loved it Artie was his best friend.

Artie's life wasn't much better either, he never had the smarts for that great Job. In fact he was stuck in a dead end job as a construction labourer. Artie's car was pretty shitty too. Artie never married, but he was happy in the knowledge that at least he didn't end up with Paul's shitty wife.

For Paul's 46th birthday Artie was pretty broke, so all he could get his friend was a single lottery ticket. Artie being the sentimental guy that he was picked the date of the start of their friendship, and their respective ages (46, 45). Paul loved the present, and thought that the two of them should go to the Legion that friday to split a round of beers and listen to them call out the numbers.

On Friday they are both sitting there at the Legion having a laugh over a couple of beers when the cute lottery girl comes on the t.v. to read out the numbers. Paul pulls out the ticket and spreads it out on the beer stained table in front of them. The lottery girl starts reading out the numbers, 45, 10, 05. Both of Paul and Artie's hearts start beating, thats 200$ already. 53, Holy crap thats like a 10, 000 ticket. They both start losing their shit. 46....... Paul feints. He just won the jackpot. 37million dollars.

Two minutes later Artie finally revives Paul. Paul and Artie celebrate the night away, buy round after round for the people at the Legion and get absolutely shittered. They close out the bar and as the ugly lights come on they stumble blitzed, singing, onto the street arm in arm with the winning lottery ticket in hand and start the long walk back to Paul's place.

Halfway home, Paul comes to two drunken