A list of puns related to "Blame It On Me"
My daughter had just vacated a chair, and my wife was trying to move it with her foot. She turns to me and asks, "Is your leg on the chair?" I said, "No." She asks, "Why can't I move it?" I jokingly replied, "Because you're weak?" And then, inspiration hit: "Don't blame it on me, blame it on mu." She just shook her head while I laughed.
Dad Awards
To truly capture the “Spirit of the Dad” what are some achievements you think make a True Dad?
“Fixed it!” - complete an entire home improvement project in a single trip to the hardware/lumber store.
“Gotcha!” - demonstrate the Dad Reflex by catching a toddler seconds before disaster.
“That’s my boy/girl!” - get in trouble with the SO when your son/daughter picked up a bad habit of yours, or develops your bad sense of humor/pranks.
“Here boy!” - develop a stronger bond with the new family pet than any of the kids who wanted it in the first place.
“Office time” - spend at least 30 minutes in the bathroom hiding from the kids/spouse even though you don’t actually have to go to the bathroom.
“Blame it on the dog” - make at least one passenger choke on a fart in the car.
“Really?” - have a kid/spouse completely buy in to one of your bad dad jokes. (I had my wife convinced for nearly an hour that the rumble strips on the side of the highway was called the “Brailleway” and it was for blind drivers)
“But the kids will love it!” - use the kids as justification to purchase something that you’ve always wanted.
“Try it, you’ll like it!” - introduce a kid into your hobby as an excuse to go out more often than the spouse would usually tolerate.
“Saved the day!” - prevent a meltdown by fixing the favorite toy that seemed completely destroyed.
“Animal surgeon” - conduct ‘surgery’ to patch up a favorite stuffed animal.
“Here, let me show you” - take over a video game under the guise of showing the kid how to play.
What else can you add to this list?
I'm Australian, in Australia, specifically southern Australia. Very specifically, southern Victoria. Anyway. I took a long drive on Friday, out to Halls Gap, which is a beautiful part of the world. Oddly, I noticed along the way a significant amount of dead crows on the side of the road. Now I'm of county stock, and I know well that crows (although technically ravens I believe) are an extraordinarily intelligent bird, and it's very rare that you see one fallen by the roadside. As such, it was obvious to me as unusual. So I looked it up, and as it happened there'd been a study conducted regarding the very road I'd driven down. Turns out, this particular road was notorious for dead crows on account of two very basic reasons, the first, it's proximity to bushland which ensured a considerable amount of regular road kill (possums, kangaroos, etcetera) and second, the road was a significant trucking route. It follows logic, although I did not see it at the time, that it was determined that the trucks, rather than the cars which used the road were to blame regarding the amount of dead crows. How so, you ask? I, too, was interested to know. You see, the front of the average car in these modern times is made of plastic and paint whereas the Australian cross-country truck is equipped with a large alloy bullbar. A crow, when hit by a car will have chips of paint transferred onto its feathers whereas one downed by a truck will have none. Now crows are not usually struck by vehicles, as they are a very intelligent bird. As such, they employ a sentry bird, which looks out as the others eat from the road, and warns them of any approaching danger. Such is the intelligence of the crows! So why should they perish by truck in such numbers? The answer amazed me. As it turns out, a sentry crow sees the approaching vehicle and calls to his friends CAR! CAR! CAR! but he can't say truck
Hey guys, this might sound too cheesy and I'm not sure if I'm posting on the right subreddit.
Every Saturday I give my SO a printed typography paper that I personally design with a pun of her name on it (her name is Des, I call her Mae so either is good).
Problem is, I can make the designs, but I'm running out of puns. Here's a list of what I've already done:
Des puns:
Hardest
Wordes (Words)
Widest
Uncondesionally (Unconditionally)
DrivES
Dessert
Fades
Des (This)
Holidess (Happy Holidays!)
Desperate
Desision (Decision)
Decades
Desert
Destination
Dress (DrESs)
Despresso (Espresso)
Mae puns:
I'd really appreciate some help if you guys have any puns reserved. Anything will do, really.
Thanks!
EDIT: Formatting
The sun shone into my office through the lowered blinds all clumsy like, fumbling through the gaps between the venetian slats like a drunk fishing for loose change in his pockets; trying to see if he has money enough for one last drink or maybe the bus ride home.
The dame looked me up and down, clearly disappointed by what sat in front of her. I didn’t blame her. Three days of salt and pepper stubble clung to my my crude boxer’s jaw and the bags under my eyes were so big half the bums downtown could sleep in there and not even know anyone else was with 'em. That was ok. This broad wasn’t hiring me for my looks and I wasn’t looking to her for approval. We both knew what brought her in here, it was the name on the door.
Max Dad P.I. - that’s me. Private Investigator’s sure not the profession my mother would have picked out for me, but it keeps me in whisky and it keeps a roof over my head and that’ll do for now. The dame parted those cherry red lips of hers as she took another pull on that just-lit cigarette and nervously stubbed it out in the ashtray. My eyebrows knit together slightly. I hate seeing things go to waste.
“So as I was saying, Mr Dad,” she began.
“Please, call me Max”
“Alright, Max… well, as I was saying, my bag is missing. Stolen, I think. I urgently need it back. Shall I describe it to you?”
“No that’s alright miss. You got nothing to worry about,” I replied, sliding a bottle out of the desk drawer and pouring a big slug of scotch into to my morning coffee, “I’m sure it’ll be a brief case.”
So I just got back from a run, and must have eaten something earlier, because as soon as I came inside, I ripped a really loud, nasty fart. I jokingly blamed it on her, and she laughed a bit until she smelled it. As she was busy plugging her nose I lay this on her.
Me: Well you know what they say, the one that smelt it is the one that dealt it. Her: That's not funny, I know it was you, that saying doesn't make any sense right now. Me: I think it makes a lot of scents. Wah-waaah..
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