Roll up Puns

Now he’s high on the list of people I never want to talk to again.

I walk kinda funny now but my farts smell great!

My favorite wrapper is the fifty cent piece

He is now high on my list of priorities.

 

 

Then ask someone, "which of the 2 flaps do you think will unravel first?"

 

After they guess, let in unravel and go, "Its a tie!"

 

...continue doing this to every single person you can in the room wearing a shit eating grin the whole time, until your wife pulls you aside and tells you it's time to leave (out of embarrassment and frustration).

 

now you get to go back home and do Dad stuff as you please!

I look over, and he's reaching into his pocket and pulls out a little vial, and shakes it out all over me. He hands me this vial and he's made a shitty label around it, and he wrote on this fricken label, "Directions: Add in salt to injury".

He's a legend among my friends dads.

Me: Ew Dad there's a beetle on the wall!

Dad: Wait which one?

Me: The wall right across from me!

Dad: No! Which Beatle? Ringo? John?

He hasn't stopped laughing and won't help me get the beetle.

They arrest him for waving a fire arm.

Dad: "No, I had a late lunch."

He sung: you picked a fine time to leave me, loose wheel.

Thought the spider...

He can see from her nameplate that her name is Patty Whack.

"Miss Whack, I'd like to get a $30,000 loan to take a holiday."

Patty looks at the frog in disbelief and asks his name. The frog says his name is Kermit Jagger, his dad is Mick Jagger, and that it's okay, he knows the bank manager.

Patty explains that he will need to secure the loan with some collateral.

The frog says, "Sure. I have this," and produces a tiny porcelain elephant, about an inch tall, bright pink and perfectly formed.

Very confused, Patty explains that she'll have to consult with the bank manager and disappears into a back office.

She finds the manager and says, "There's a frog called Kermit Jagger out there who claims to know you and wants to borrow $30,000, and he wants to use this as collateral." She holds up the tiny pink elephant. "I mean, what in the world is this?"

The bank manager looks back at her and says, "It's a knickknack, Patty Whack. Give the frog a loan. His old man's a Rolling Stone."

Wasabi

My sister walks up to me and asks: “Are you creating a pyramid scheme?”

“What? Did you fart too?”

There was, for instance, the time he conducted a crew of new S.A.R.H. (Society for the Aesthetic Rearrangement of History -BJ) recruits – all from late twentieth-century Terra – on a training study of Carter’s World, a newly established agricultural colony attempting to support itself by the export of edible nuts. Barely into their second generation, and having yet to show a profit, the colonists were technologically backward. Nevertheless, they showed a surprising ingenuity in the use of their few advantages. It was this resourcefulness that Feghoot was demonstrating to his rookies.

“Look at the perfection with which these streets are graded”, exclaimed one student. “Earth-moving machinery on this scale is strictly high technology stuff. How can they do it?”

“A new alleyway is being constructed, nearby”, said Feghoot. “Let us walk that way while I explain.” As they strolled, he told his students that countless centuries before, the Carter’s World system had been inhabited by a now-vanished race of giants. This very planet had served them for a nursery, and among the many artifacts they had left were thousands of childrens blocks, immense and precision-cut. You simply jack one up onto logs, bring it where you want it, put collapsible jacks underneath, snake out the logs, spread soil more or less evenly beneath, and collapse the jacks.

“I see”, said the student. “It’s not graded road at all; its a simple hammered-earth base.”

“That’s right,” Feghoot went on smoothly. “You just hit the road jack and don’t come back no mo.”

His students registered dismay and anguish.

“Isn’t that right, old-timer?,” Feghoot demanded of an ancient Carterian standing by the mouth of the newly completed alley they had just reached.

“Ahm afraid not, suh”, said the senior citizen, and the students giggled at Feghoots discomfiture. “Oh, we used to do it that way, but it was far too much trouble. It’s the soil heah. You see, the very same soil which produced our famous cashews is so high in clay content that a child could roll out a road of it. Then, we simply use a system of lenses to bake it into hardness. Ahve just completed this alley mahself, and ahm just a retired professor of Sports History, much too old and feeble to handle hydraulic jacks.

“So you see,” he finished, eyes twinkling, “Mah hammered alley is really cashews clay.”

Howls of agony rose from the students, but Feghoot never hesitated. “And he”, he said, turning to his students, “is clearly the gradi

There once was this fella was born with a silver screw in his belly button. His parents, and later himself, searched far and wide trying to find someone that knew how this happened and how to remove it. As he grew older he cared less and less about the "how" and more about the removal. One day in his never-ending search he encountered a wizened woman who said that she knew of a place where you could go and a mysterious force would be able to remove the screw. But, before she provided the location she asked him if this was REALLY something he wanted done and if he knew all the consequences of his desire. The man hastily said that he was 10000% sure and more than well informed of the consequences. So, she gave him the location of the cave and the instructions on how to gain the help of the mysterious force. He was to go to the cave and sleep nude in the cave over night and by the morning his request would be fulfilled. He made his way to the spot with all due haste and followed the instructions to the letter. He did this and fell into a sound sleep. During the night a heavy fog rolled into the cave and a shining silver screwdriver floated into the cave with it. It floated down to the man and gently removed the screw. When the man woke up in the morning and saw the screw on the ground beside him he quickly reached down and felt his belly button. The screw was gone! He sprung up with great joy but the minute he landed after his leap of joy his butt fell off. He froze in horror and started to scream "Why did my butt fall off?" over and over.

The moral of the story is "Don't mess with things you don't understand or you will lose your butt."

I've been sharing the Dad Jokes from here that pop up in my suggestion line. My Dad and I work together, so we're both off for the School break. Half the time he rolls his eyes and the other half he chuckles. So, thank you, Dad Jokers, for making my Dad chuckle in whatever this strange year has been!

I sure did straighten him out.

...needless to say, he lost his sh*t.

But it still has potential.

I found a recipe in a magazine but I wasn't sure about it because the recipe calls for thyme and a bunch of other spices. I had them all, but unfortunately they were all expired. I decided to make them anyways, took them to a party, and they ended up all being eaten, everyone thought they were delicious. I guess what they say is true.

People love that old thyme Moroccan roll.

The doctor is checking him out when he finds a roll of $100 bills stuffed up his ass. He pulls out the money and counts it.

“You’re not gonna believe this, but I just found $1900 shoved up your ass!”

The man says, “Well that makes sense. That’s why I haven’t been feeling too grand.”

You can hide but you cant run

It was a brisk Saturday morning when Gerald arrived at “The Café,” 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: “Parking now, be there in 5.”

“Dad,” 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, “Dad” popped up on his phone. The rest is history. The rest leads to that Saturday morning, at The Café.

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.

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

“Yeah,” said Gerald, allowing a smile to grace his face. “Too 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

All offenses aside, I’m originally from Britain and we make fun of the Irish ALL the time.

So an Irishman stumbles upon a genie’s lamp and says to himself “ooh laddy what have we found here? I tink I’ll give it a rub to see if a genie appears!”

So he does, and lo, a puff of blue smoke comes pouring out of the spout, billows into the air and the genie’s form becomes solid. It speaks, “Oh master of the lamp, I am your genie and I grant you three wishes.”

The Irishman’s eyes are wide open with glee, his cheeks and nose red with fire, he shouts “tree wishes?! That’s just brilliant!” For me first wish, I’ll have a bottle of whiskey that never runs dry.”

The genie, eyes rolling, clicks his fingers and POOF a nice big bottle of whiskey appears before the Irishman. “Well I tink we’ll have to put this to the test!” He snatches up the bottle, takes a long healthy swig, glug glug glug, and the bottle pops as he releases it from his lips, “Ahhhhhhhh!!!” And to his amazement as soon as the liquid in the bottle settled, it gave a large burping “bulp!”, released a large bubble, and when the bubble popped the bottle was full again. “WELL I’LL BE! THAT’S THE MOST INCREDIBLE TING!”

The genie, steadfastly unimpressed, reminded the Irishman “Master, I will bring you fortune, splendor, reputation, treasures beyond any imagination. You have two wishes remaining. What would master want for a wish?”

The Irishman looks to the genie and says “oh tat’s easy! I’ll have two more of these!”

Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.

Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.

Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.

The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.

Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.

Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.

One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.

Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.

“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.

The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.

“Yes of course” replied Trevor

Story time:

So over the holiday, while visiting my mom, she asked me to run and pick up some groceries she had on her shopping list. So of course, I pack up my kids and we are off to the store. As I am perusing the juice aisle, my daughter squeals, "ELSA!!!!" Sure enough, there was Elsa, on the label of a bottle of apple juice. I thought, "Apple juice is on the list and it will make my daughter happy? Boom getting it!" Fast forward to putting groceries away at my mom's house.

Mom: "Did you get everything on my list?"

Me: "Yes mom."

Mom: as I am handing her the Elsa apple juice "Oh I wanted you to get the frozen apple juice"

Me: my face shifting from a look of irritation to a stupid-cheesy smirk "That IS Frozen apple juice..."

Mom: fighting the urge to smack me while rolling her eyes "OMG."

Wife sent me these (she can't believe she's condoning this behavior):

What does the subatomic duck say? Quark Quark

Two photons arrive at the airport and they are asked if they have any luggage to check. "No thanks, we're traveling light"

Source

And this old man asked if I was protesting. I explained that we were setting up wooden posts to keep people from parking too close to the building.

He said “looks to me like you’re making a stand....get it?”

Eye roll

Before he sits down the bartender yells “Hey! We don’t serve pieces of string like you!”

The piece of string goes outside, ties himself in a bow, and rolls around on the ground for a bit. Then he gets up, goes back into the bar, and sits down.

The bartender says “Aren’t you that piece of string?” The string replies “No. I’m a frayed knot.”

Well, I can roll out dozens of eggscruitating egg puns in just the first sentence alone. But the second one is where I start to crack you up from the amount of egg puns that were in the first sentence. By the third sentence your brain will be scrambled from the amount of egg puns that I cracked while just simply talking.

A hearse is driving up a very steep street and once it gets near the top, the back door opens up and the coffin comes shooting out of the hearse and rolls down the street.

People are diving out of the way, cars are swerving, it’s chaos! By the time it reaches the bottom of the hill it has picked up a lot of speed and crashes into a wall surrounded by people.

The door pops open, the body sits up and says “Do you have anything to stop this coughin?”

This just happened at the dinner table. My Dad was talking about how he got up very early for work. The conversation went like this:

Dad: “Man, I woke up way too early this morning and it completely threw me out of sync.”

Me: “Well, why were you sleeping in the sink?”

My Mom rolled her eyes.

I am Dad now.

Her face went red and her cheeks swelled up making her look just like a tomato.

After the nurse and my wife finished talking about her reaction, I just couldn’t help but blurt our “well, you are what you eat”

My wife eye rolled, the nurse just looked at me with a deadpan face and said “well done” and walked off.

When he got there, a woman extended her hand.

"Good afternoon, sir," she said. "My name is Patricia Wack. How may I help you today?"

Kermit replied, "Hi-ho, Patricia! I'm Kermit the Frog, and I would like to borrow some money."

They walked over to her desk and sat down.

"Certainly, Mr. Frog--"

"Oh, just call me Kermit."

"Okay... Kermit. How much money would you like to borrow?"

"Ten thousand dollars."

Mildly surprised, Ms. Wack looked intently at Kermit.

"Do you have any references?"

"Well, I suppose I could use my father, Keith Richards."

Ms. Wack froze for a second, then...

"THE Keith Richards?"

"Oh, yes. In fact, he told me he's friends with your manager, which is why I came in here."

"Okay... Do you have any collateral?"

"Excuse me?"

"Collateral. Something of value, like a car, or a boat..."

"Oh, yes! I do have something. I have this."

Kermit reached into his briefcase and placed a small figurine on the desk. Patricia looked curiously at the object, then at our amphibious friend.

"What's this?"

"It's a Hummel."

"A what?"

"A Hummel. They're supposed to be quite valuable. Well, at least this one is to me."

She picked up the Hummel and stood up.

"If you don't mind, I would like to show this to the manager."

"Oh, no! I don't mind at all!"

So, Patricia took the Hummel to the manager's office, knocked on the door, and walked inside.

"Patricia! What can I do for you?"

"Mr. Wilson, there's this... frog named Kermit at my desk, and he wants to borrow $10,000, but he has only this for collateral."

Mr. Wilson looked at the Hummel, then out to her desk.

"I don't see anything out of order here."

"But, Mr. Wilson--"

"Look, it's a knick-knack, Patty Wack. Give the frog a loan. His old man's a Rolling Stone."

So my daughter is in Girl Scouts. Everybody knows that the Girl Scouts sell cookies, but they also sell chocolates, nuts, and other snack food. Since we have only one car and a large garage we usually volunteer as a cupboard. Basically we get a few pallets of stuff and the area troops pick up from our place.

Me: [stopping mid pulling into the garage] What is that?!

Wife: [concerned] What is it?

Me: [shaking my head] That is nuts!

Wife: [eyes roll] Really?

Me: [laughing uncontrollably]

My son didn’t laugh either.

So my wife just got her breast pump all set up. She's got the double suckers rolling, tits out, milk flowing like a minor tributary. And I ASK "ARE YOU PUMPED?!" fucking genius.... She stared silently for like 10 seconds. Then told me to post here.

For the grater good.

Just made this up in the kitchen and got an eye roll from my wife, so I figured it was good to post, even if it is a bit cheesy.

Then then underside...

I let them go...

It a TIE!

A frog walks into a bank and approaches the teller, whose name plate says Patricia Whack.
"Miss Whack, I'd like to get a $50,000 loan to take a vacation."
Patty looks at the frog in disbelief and asks his name.
"Kermit Jagger. My father is Mick Jagger. It will be fine to authorize the loan, I know your manager."
Patty explains that he will need to secure the loan with some collateral.
"Sure, how about this," said Kermit as he produces a tiny porcelain elephant, about an inch tall, bright pink and perfectly formed. Very confused, Patty explains that she'll have to consult with the bank manager and disappears into a back office.
Patty walks into the manager's office and proceeds to tell her, "There's a frog called Kermit Jagger out there who claims to know you and wants to borrow $50,000, and he wants to use this as collateral." Patty holds up the tiny pink elephant. "I mean, what in the world is this?"
The bank manager looks back at her and says..."It's a knickknack, Patty Whack. Give the frog a loan. His old man's a Rolling Stone."