Best Family Friendly Puns

• The groom gave me permission to riddle the best man speech with puns which was great, but im a bit worried Illinois the rest of you.
• Firstly, I’d like to thank you all for coming to celebrate these two here at their Maryland, im sorry wedding.
• Iowa lot to my brother because despite whatever situation or distance, he’s eager to check in and catch up. He’s always been a supportive brother and I’m happy to consider him a great friend.
• Augusta Maine thing is Idaho-ped that he might find someone to bring out the best in him, and that is the bride without a doubt.
• I’m Minnesota the middle of this thing and I want to to wish them all the happiness in the world. You guys always bring a smile and fill the space with joy from Florida ceiling.
• When you look back on your pictures and videos from today in a month, Montana half, I hope you remember all the love you have for each other and carry that with you.
• Utah have a bright future together and I hope you make the most of it. Whether you’re simply relaxing at home Washingtons of premier league games or traveling together (perhaps to any of the locations previously mentioned), I wish you all the love in the world and I’m fortunate to call you both family.
• Alaska you before I finish is that you forgive me for any puns that didn’t land and if I missed, I’ll try not to Michigan. Enjoy the rest of your night, here’s to the bride and groom!

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

It was time for the prom at Klondike High School and Tim's friends were desperately trying to convince him to go. He considered it, but was very self-conscious of the fact that he had had an accident as a young child that caused him to lose his eye, and the best his family could afford was to buy him a wooden eye. After several days of goading, Tim finally decides to go.

Sally was in a similar situation. Her friends desperately wanted her to go prom with them, but she was recently in a car accident and lost her right leg. She had a prosthetic, but it was very uncomfortable, so she had a hard time walking. Reluctantly, she agreed to go.

It was the night of the prom and both Tim and Sally were getting all gussied up with their friends. They both make it to the prom, but when they arrive, they are both too nervous to dance. Tim's friends notice Sally sitting on the wall and say to him, "Look over there! There's a cute girl who's all alone and needs a partner to dance with. Why don't you go over there and ask her to dance?" After some further convincing, Tim sheepishly begins to walk over to Sally to ask her. As he approaches her, he getes nervous, and awkwardly stands in front of her for a few seconds before saying, "Wuh...wuh...would you like to dance with me?"

Excitedly, Sally exclaims, "Would I? Would I?"

Tim responds angrily, "PEG LEG! PEG LEG!"

I was told a long time ago your true friends will be honest with you, especially if it's not something that will hurt your feelings really bad.

So this life long joke of "kansaw" was only ever corrected by boyfriends, best friends, and family. Others were people thinking i meant "warsaw" in which i frantically said oh no no no!

I made a point to be say this one main line like "omg can a tornado in kansaw just suck me out of this"

"Maybe i should move to Kansaw where its just wind and tornadoe shelters"

I tried to make it come up organically as possible though.

But the other times where people said nothing, some of these people good friends, now have a joke behind my back but i had it behind their backs first....

Life is fun

She asked the pastor of a local church if he knew of any houses with rooms to rent that were close to town, but out in the country. The pastor kindly drove her out to see a house with a room to rent. She loved the house and decided to rent the room. Then, the lady returned to her home in England to make her final preparations to move to Switzerland.

When she arrived back home, the thought occurred to her that she had not seen a “W.C.” in the room or even down the hall. (A W.C. is short for “water closet” and is what the English call a toilet.) So she immediately emailed the pastor to ask him where the “W.C.” is located.

The Swiss pastor had never heard of a “W.C.,” and so he Googled the abbreviation and found an article titled “Wayside Chapels.” Thinking that the English lady was asking about a country church to attend near her new home, the pastor responded as follows:

Ms. Smith,

I look forward to your move. Regarding your question about the location of the W.C., the closest W.C. is situated only two miles from the room you have rented, in the center of a beautiful grove of pine trees. The W.C. has a maximum occupancy of 229 people, but not that many people usually go on weekdays. I suggest you plan to go on Thursday evenings when there is a sing-along. The acoustics are remarkable and the happy sounds of so many people echo throughout the W.C.

Sunday mornings are extremely crowded. The locals tend to arrive early and many bring their lunches to make a day of it. Those who arrive just in time can usually be squeezed into the W.C. before things start, but not always. Best to go early if you can!

It may interest you to know that my own daughter was married in the W.C. and it was there that she met her husband. I remember how everyone crowded in to sit close to the bride and groom. There were two people to a seat ordinarily occupied by one, but our friends and family were happy to share.  I will admit that my wife and I felt particularly relieved when it was over. We were truly wiped out.

Because of my responsibilities in town, I can’t go as often as I used to. In fact, I haven’t been in well over a year. I can tell you I really miss regularly going to the W.C. Let’s plan on going together for your first visit. I can reserve us seats where you will be seen by all.

Sincerely,

Pastor Kurt Meier

So once upon a time, there was a planet shaped like a cheerio. A small moon made of milk or tied the planet, going through the center of the donut shaped world. On this planet, lived an interesting species. They acted and lived similarly to us humans? But looked just like large Cheerios (with footings hands and feet like miis) Within this society there were levels of Cheerios: original, honey nut, and finally frosted. The originals were the backbone of the economy, doing the herd labor while the honey nuts ran the businesses and the frosted Cheerios (the top of the top) led the world. Our story today focuses on a single Cheerio. Born into an original Cheerio family, this lad learned the hard way how to work. From a young age, he was forced to get a job in the local milk refinery, where his dad worked. He grew up, and soon had a family of his own. His wife, son, and daughter all worked hard, but were happy. One day walking home from school, the kids found a runaway honey nut Cheerio pup, and decided to keep him. It wasn’t much, but it inspired our little Cheerio friend here. One day, he got fed up with taking orders, and demanded a raise. His entire family has worked in this one factory for three generations, and he wanted to move up in the world, not just for him but also his kids. His old boss however, did not have the power to promote this Cheerio, and he was forced to make a life changing decision: he would go to the refinery company and use every penny in the family savings account (under the bed) to try and get a higher position. After waiting on line for over a week, his appoint was finally here. After bickering and bargaining for hours, the refinery company boss saw a spark in this lad’s eye. He agreed to give this Cheerio a promotion to the honored honey nut glaze in exchange for everything this man owned, including the family’s prized honey nut dog. Was it worth it? Well pretty soon he owned his own milk refinery and was able to breed his own honey nut dogs, so yes, yes it was. Owning and operating the refinery went smoothly. Milk was transported from the moon to the planet using space busses, and the milk itself was funneled down to the refineries using large straws. After the milk was ready to drink, it was shipped off to be sold. He was happy working here, but eventually he realized it wasn’t enough. This Cheerio, once a simple original Cheerio wanted to follow the “American dream” and do the best he could. He wanted to become a frosted Ch

Was on a family vacation to the beach and my sister, mom, dad and I were all in a local Ben and Jerry's getting some ice cream. Well the guy in front of us definitely had the Donald Trump hair going on and we all noticed. Out of nowhere, my dad turns around with a straight face and says,

"I'll pay for the ice cream this time, but you toupee next time."

I couldn't help but laugh and my mother had to walk out of the parlor. These comments are the reason why my father is my best friend

...a wagon train was heading out west. Inside one of the wagons, a man lay on his deathbed with friends and family gathered 'round. He gestured to his best friend, who leaned down to hear what the dying man had to say.

"My friend," he whispered, "I'm not gonna make it, but I wanna be remembered. When you get to where you're going, I want you to name a town after me."

"You betcha," his friend says. "Anything for you, Al."

Then the man gestures to his best friend's son, who likewise leans down to hear the dying man's last words.

"Boy, make sure your old man keeps his promise to name a town after me."

The boy answers, "Yes, Sir, Mr. Buquerque."

So in my calculus class last year in math, there were these two Chinese twins. Ving, and Ling. Ving was always super cool with me. In exchange for answers (he was super smart) I would hang out with him and be his friend and stuff. After I cheated off of him and studied with him though, I did get to be his friend and we got very close.

His sister, Ling, was always uptight about school and she made sure to study, she got stressed about a B, etc. One day I was hanging out with Ving, and we started talking about names. He went off on this huge rant about how he hated his, and how he wanted to change it to something more Asian-American, like Lee. I told him that the Courthouse downtown had a form that you could fill to legally change it. He told me: "I always give you answers. If you could just drive me down to the courthouse this one time, I will never forget you. I just hate this god-forsaken Chinese name and I want to get rid of it forever."

He seemed pretty adamant about it, so I decided the best decision would be to take him. We walked out to my car, and right as I put the keys in the ignition Ling came running and tapped on the car door like a madman. I rolled it down and she started freaking out about how Ving's name had been passed down through generations and generations, but Ving didn't care. He just wanted to go down to the Courthouse and get it over with.

Ling figured that coming with would be the best idea, so if anything else came up that she would be needed for, she would be there for Ving. Honestly, I felt stuck in the middle of a family feud, so I just took her along. When we got to the Courthouse, Ving confidently walked up to the front desk and asked the receptionist if he could change his name. She gave him a little packet of paper and told him to sit down. Ling and I waited patiently while Ving filled out his info. I was watching him fill it out and I noticed he really did want to change his name to Lee.

Before he finished, though, he started tearing up. He told me he couldn't change his name. He asked the lady at the front that he couldn't do it, and she told him he would need twenty dollars to cancel the request. Ling was so relieved and happy that he changed his mind, she dug through her purse, found the money, and started to hand it to the receptionist.

It was at this moment that the most stereotypical Asian man burst through the doors. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a visor, American flag shorts, flip flops, everything. This