Firmness Puns

..NO MORE READING !!

I’ll sleep on it.

Die Firma

My wife just tells me which ones to wear.

They are known as the pot stickers.

No one expects the Spanish acquisition.

...thank you for attending my bread talk.

Hopefully it doesn’t fall through

I think that's just bad ad vise.

He was asked the value of a dozen dozens, to which he promptly replied "132", instead of 144.

He was fired for gross misrepresentation.

They're firm

A very skilled attorney interviews for a job at a prestigious firm. The managing partner looks over his resume and exclaims with glee, “Oh my goodness! You’re so experienced! You’re hired, and you can name your salary!”

The interviewee paused for a moment and said “Thank you. I’d like to call mine Dennis.”

I interrupted the conversation and said "you mean the acCOWntants?"

This was over a month ago and I still proudly think about that joke.

I just need to download the drivers.

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

Medic said he could have done with a second coat.

He said it’s a good quality to hold onto.

Sushi

Love means no score.

Edifice Wrecks.

She claimed they created a hostel work environment.

What if I want a soft one?

The no-bell prize

Me: Man, it's a great feeling to hand in these tax returns I've been sitting on for a week.

Him: I usually just put them on my desk.

He lost his firm

Because you can always count on them

Being tired and weary, the lawyer-onion isn't sure whether to go, but decides he needs cheering up.

So he dresses smartly, puts on his favorite aftershave and heads over to his friend's.

He gets to the party to find it quite a packed affair and heads over to the bar - fighting through crowds of reveller-onions - to get a drink.

As he gets to the bar, he notices in one corner a slightly out-of-place female onion.

She looks a bit sad and being the compassionate onion that he is, he heads over to talk to her.

This is quickly affirmed as a good move, as they hit it off immediately; she was abandoned by her friends shortly after arriving and had been minding her own business ever since, but over a night of drinks and talking, they quickly fall into an infatuation and soon end up spending an oniony night of passion together.

When they awake in the morning, they don't find it awkward and a steady relationship between the two is struck.

This lasts a good while, having its ups and downs like any college relationship, but eventually the day comes when they both graduate.

The two couldn't be happier!

They both get jobs close to one another and move into an apartment together.

One day, the partner-onion is anxiously awaiting the lawyer-onion at home.

She's been ill all day and checking has confirmed her suspicions.

She tearfully - and joyfully - breaks the news to the lawyer-onion; they're going to have a tiny baby-onion together.

A shallot, if you will.

A few days later, this prompts the lawyer-onion to propose to his heretofore girlfriend-onion.

They are soon wed, having a fantastic wedding-day and husband and wife-onions are on top of the world.

The day comes of the birth and no complications - a tiny, healthy baby onion is born to two proud parents.

Seeing this little bundle of oniony love in their arms causes them to fall deeper in love than ever.

Over the next few years, husband-and-wife-onions' lives are fantastic.

He's prospering at work, she's really enjoying taking some time to raise the baby-onion and over time the baby-onion grows into a hale and hearty toddler-onion, who then becomes a child-onion.

One day, the idyll of the onions' lives is shattered when tragedy strikes.

The lawyer-onion (now a partner-onion in a prestigious law firm due to chance and hard work) is at work, and mother-onion is washing dishes and watching her child play in the yard.

She glances away to take another plate and turns her vision back to

Passing a billboard for the law offices of Powell, Powell, and Powell, I said to my wife, "Those are the attorneys I would call."

"Why?"

"They're obviously the most Powell-ful firm in town."

I now carry a scrap of paper in my back pocket that has the word "Otherwise" written on it.

Last night my mom was telling me how well my daughter did in the nursery at church, i pulled the paper out and firmly stated "This says Otherwise."

She took out her glasses, carefully unfolded it, then started laughing while handing it to my dad.

I hadn't put my own picture up on my dating profile, just a picture of my pickup. But that's okay, because she'd just put a picture of her dog. I sent her a message, something almost-clever like "your dog can ride in my pickup any time," and she responded.

We clicked pretty quickly, and started chatting regularly. Every day, sometimes throughout the day. Slowly we learned more about each other. Her dog's name was Daisy. My truck's name was Dodge Ram (I apologized for my lack of creativity). She was a CPA. I was a beekeeper.

And at this, she stumbled. "If we ever meet in real-life, I want you to know that I could never date a beekeeper." But we were still far away from that point, so it was moot.

But time went on, and we gradually became closer to that point. More personal information. What firm she worked for. Where my farm was. Names of relatives. Names of high schools. All the things that just come up in conversation eventually if you talk to someone long enough.

But, oddly, after all this time, neither of us had thought to send any pictures. Until one day I got a message from her: "I never thought I'd say this, but I really do want to meet you in person. I think we have a rare connection, and I don't want to squander it. I want to send you my picture, and I want you to send me yours, but I'm telling you, I can never date a beekeeper."

I couldn't imagine a life without my bees. But I also couldn't imagine a life without her. Tentatively, reluctantly, I clicked on the image attached to her message.

Then I saw her face. Now I'm a bee leaver.

So I'm in this DnD party. There are six of us including the DM. Chris is the DM, and the other major player here is Shawn: what you need to know about him is that his character has three arms, plus a bionic one.

Chris: after Shawn has been attacked by a flying enemy and thrown off a pier So you're now in the water. What are you going to do?

Shawn: Does this affect my bionic arm?

Chris: No, you waterproofed it last session, remember?

Shawn: Oh, right. That's handy.

All: groan

• The best way to save face is to keep the lower half of it closed.

• Those who seek to get even only end up at greater odds.

• Those who sling mud end up only losing ground.

• Want a bouncier water bed? Just fill it with spring water.

• Sometimes the best helping hand you can give is a good, firm push.

• Keep your dreams alive -- quickly hit the snooze button.

• Don't worry about the bird flu too much -- it's tweetable.

A firm no.

I'm here today to tell you all a horrible story, so that none of you have to go through the same experience as my friend.

My friend, Hugh, is a very religious man, who is also involved in our community. 2 weeks ago, our local church burned down and Hugh believed it was his Christian duty to help them get back on their feet. Hugh allowed the friars of the church to set up a cart in his mall to sell their flowers. Every day, the friars came in at 7:00 in the morning with a bushel of beautiful flowers and began to work diligently to arrange them into bouquets. All was going well, the mall was generating more revenue and the church was making more money than they were by selling the flowers in front of the church on Sunday. Everyone was happy; until that first weekend.

Our town is kinda tourist-y, so we get some out-of-towners on the weekends. A gay couple came to the mall the first weekend that the friars had taken up shop (Typically, our town is pretty progressive, but the friars tended to be uber-conservative). The couple came over to the cart and admired the flowers; they tried to purchase a bouquet, but the friars refused to sell to them. The couple was outraged and went to see Hugh directly. They complained to him that the friars were being discriminatory, so Hugh promised to have a talk with the friars. When Hugh confronted the friars, they refused to sell to the couple on the grounds that “they were committing an atrocity in the eyes of the lord.” The couple stormed off and promised to boycott the cart.

This past weekend, the couple came back with a large group and a letter from the mayor, saying that the friars had to sell to them, regardless of sexual preference. The friars stood firm and refused to sell to them, so the group started a protest. They brought in signs and started chanting around the cart. The friars continued to sell their flowers and Hugh allowed them to remain, so eventually the protest began to boycott the mall, rather than just the cart.

By today, the mall had lost 50% of its normal weekend revenue. The group sent a letter to Hugh saying that they could forgive him if he shut down the flower cart within the week. Hugh was pretty broken up, but he had no choice. To maintain his livelihood, he would have to kick the friars out of his store. He talked with the friars this morning and revoked their previous agreement. The friars had their cart packed and left by 7:30, to huge cheers from the community. The mall has been pretty norm

Die Firma

No one expects the Spanish Acquisition.