“Sorry, I’m a little behind.”
Because he tried to force it.
Confused, another redditor asked “What kind of match was that?” Cranium replied “No match for her apparently”
They’re extinct.
She will chose the fourth prince: he's the most hand-some.
rule 6 compliance section: >!It's an aluminum-shelled resistor. The person trying to escape would be a resistor, but would be put in a car, which are about 9 percent aluminum, if this shitty article I found online is to be believed: https://auto.howstuffworks.com/under-the-hood/auto-manufacturing/5-materials-used-in-auto-manufacturing3.htm the car would be the metal shell.!<
>!also I found online that walking at 5 km/h takes around 100W of energy, so I went with 200W because I figured trying to escape the police while prone probably takes around double the effort.!<
“I can’t stand it here!”
"Hurry! Cane!"
Too many stories.
...yes, I was really strapped for cash back then.
Flat Earthers. Social distancing is really putting them over the edge
2021
She refused to pick up her pace because she was anti-lope.
He was always leaving his attachments behind.
Turns out, I've got atrophy
They just lost their Focus
Some stories have hooks.
This story has a bloody good one.
It's about love—
Or at least marriage.
My marriage.
At heart, it's your typical fish out of water story, but like I said there's a hook.
The hook's in the beginning.
Although it's really the tail end that's most moving—at least now, when our love's drying up.
Understand:
I'm a fisherman, and I caught my wife with another man.
Well, I caught the man first.
I used Craigslist.
But I suppose the details don't really matter. It's enough to know that by the time he was naked in the shed it was too late for him to change his mind.
He broke down easily. He wasn't particularly thick skinned.
That's where the hook came in—
pushed through a fold of flesh on his back.
He wasn't much in the size department, but I didn't intend for him to get hung up on it. Unfortunately, he kept trying to escape, so what choice did I have? Then he seemed quite insecure, so I pierced him with another steel hook just in case.
Like I said:
Bloody good hook.
After he stopped struggling, I took him down and dragged him to my boat. Then we went fishing.
Hold on, though.
I may need to backtrack a little, because you may be wondering how I even knew she was out there.
The answer is: I'd already seen her swimming a few times.
It was love at first sight.
Like many couples nowadays we met on the net.
So back to when I was fishing:
I was in my boat with the Craigslist man with the steel hooks in his back. I had tied a thick rope to one of the hooks, placed the man onto a net, and pushed them both overboard. He splashed and choked, attracting a lot of attention.
I waited for her call.
It came.
She sounded so near to me.
When she swam just close enough to the Craigslist man in the water, I pulled in the net—and there she was: shining, mine to the gills and writhing so enticingly!
I took her ashore.
I placed her in a water tank and told her she would be my wife.
I screwed her—
shut.
For days I watched her bang—
on the glass.
Until one day it happened: the glass cracked, the tank broke open, and with the water she spilled onto the floor.
Now here I am, watching my marriage fall apart.
Her gills are barely stirring.
Her face: dry and still.
It's only her scaly tail that's still gently moving.
I caught my wife with another man. I met her on the net. I thought our love would last forever, but now, listening to her shriek, I realize I was catfished! I wanted to marry a siren—but this thing is nothing
... keep reading on reddit ➡
Therapist: So you could say.. you had to wrestle mania?
2 girls are chatting, one isn't particularly bright and seems very deep in thought, the other asks what she's thinking about, the not so bright one says she has an issue, "I have had a horse for years and my parents have just bought me a new one which is virtually identical to the first and I'm struggling to work out which one is which." The friend suggested she try cutting the mane short on one horse making it easy to identify. The friend is over the moon and rushes away to try the suggestion. A few weeks pass and the friends meet up, The friend and how she got on with the mane cutting trick. "It was fine for the first couple of weeks but the mane grew back so I'm back to square one." The friend thinks for a while and suggests cutting the hair on the tail short making identification simple. Again the girl rushes off to try the suggestion. A few weeks later they meet again with much the same story, this time the friend suggests measuring the horses height to see if one is taller than the other. A few weeks later they meet up, the not so clever one is ecstatic and proceeds to tell her friend how it went. "It was amazing and I hadn't noticed but the black horse was 2 hands taller than the white one".
Having a small party for my guitar and music obsessed soon-to-be 3 year old. Wanted to put some signs next to the food to make it more on-theme. We’ll be serving:
Chicken nuggets PB&Js (in the shape of guitars) Veggie tray Fruit tray Water & juice
I’m struggling to think of stuff. So far I only have Nirvana Nuggets (which I realize isn’t even a pun) and PB&J Richie Samboraches. Lame, I know 😂 Help me out if you can think of any more!
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.
"That's amazing" I said "how did you know to do that? Are you a vet?" "Vet?" He asked. 'of corse I'm vet. I was in zee sea"
Because he was Basmatic.
My wife hates this joke, so I make sure to tell it as much as I can.
If you have ever put together a new BBQ, you know how bad the instructions can be. Yesterday, my wife and I struggled through the horrible task. When we finally figured out the last complicated step, I exclaimed “Yes! Now we’re cooking with gas.”
She actually smiled at that one, which is rare when I make Dad jokes.
I try to be supportive and say “write on, brother” every time I see him.
I’m struggling to grasp the importance of this.
It was in a remote location
One's a felon feeling glum, and the other is a feline felling glum
It was toucan fusing.
Once upon a time there were numerous tribes in a jungle. Each tribe struggled to survive, and over time and as skills evolved, tribes began to trade goods with each other. One tribe learned the skills of architecture, and traded designs for safe grass houses with neighboring tribes for other necessities, such as food. Over time, the tribe grew quite rich, and without the need for goods the chief of the tribe demanded payment in the form of a tribute, an ornate throne. Over time the number of thrones the chief owned grew more and more numerous, so he had a great multi-story grass house built to store all of his thrones. One day, the weight of the thrones became so much the house collapsed, killing the chief. The moral of the story is… wait for it…
He who lives in grass houses shouldn’t stow thrones.
This isn't a dad joke. This is a thank you to everyone on this subreddit. 6 weeks ago the love of my life broke things off with me due to factors attributed to my mental health (which i didn't tell her about because she is struggling with uni and i didn't want her to worry) and I've been having an extremely difficult time coming to terms with it. She's falling for another guy while I've been self destructing to the point where she never wants to talk to me again. But i found this subreddit today, the jokes are so stupid and funny that for the first time since before the breakup, I've laughed and it was genuine. Thank you so much for your stupid jokes. You've saved my life as far as I'm concerned. I still have a long way to to, but this subreddit is definitely going to get me through it. Thank you 💖
Knot my problem.
"Hey, barkeep!" he says, struggling to keep control of his quarry. "Any room for me and my friends?"
The bartender smiles and sets down some plastic cups. The man plops his friends inside, but the cups are too small.
"Um...barkeep?" the man says, pulling them out again. The bartender reaches for some larger mugs, but as he places them next to the cups, it becomes obvious that even these will be too small for the pigs.
Seeing the man struggle to continue holding them, the bartender runs to the kitchen for help.
A cook emerges, holding several large measuring cups. "Sorry, I just used these to make a batch of cheese dip, but they're all yours!"
The man carefully plops each pig into its respective gooey yellow cup.
Arms exhausted, breathing heavily, he drops into a stool at the end of the bar, between his tiny friends and a beautiful girl.
He glances her way, gasping coyly. "Hey...I'm...Tom."
She smiles, having watched the whole ordeal. "Hi Tom, I'm Liz. And if you don't mind me asking..." she laughs, looking over his shoulder, "what was that all about?"
He glances back at the bar. "Yeah...sorry," he pants. "I wanted...to impress you, but...it turned out to be...a pretty cheesy...pig-cup line."
11.45 : arrived at crime scene
11.45 : Examined body. Signs of struggle
11.45 : Found murder weapon in drain
11.45 : Realised watch was broken
.
.
.
.
.
My son: but this is not a dad joke.
Me : what is a day joke then?
My son : when the joke becomes a(p)parent.
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
... keep reading on reddit ➡But I really struggled to find all the good players.
A chef entered his kitchen one day struggling with holding onto a large pumpkin. He noticed three male sheep standing next to his oven. One of them had a collar on him with the letter “A” written on it. The second had a collar with “B” and the third had “C.” The chef didn’t know what to do with the sheep, and they were standing in front of the only place he could put the pumpkin down. He put the pumpkin on the first sheep’s head and nothing happened. He then put it on the second sheep’s head and again, nothing happened. He then put it on the third sheep’s head, and immediately the sheep started cooking a gourmet meal and swearing at anyone who passed by him.
That’s what happens when you put a gourd on ram C in the kitchen.
“Sorry, I’m a little behind.”
