A list of puns related to "Mr. Know It All"
It really grinds my gears when people say stick-shift is obsolete.
Most people like their music bass-boosted, but it seems like too much treble.
When an astronaut drinks tea, he takes a big space-sip.
The best electricity puns are live wires. Coppers really don’t know how to resist these in a coil. If you make enough of this type of pun you can really blow their fuses. You need to be smart about how you conduct these so you don’t overload your capacitors.
The only kind of rap I like is the wrapping paper on gifts.
Scissors always cut to the point.
Airplane puns always fly overhead. You have to be careful so you don’t stall out. Always use better judgement so you nose how to dive. When used correctly, this pun classification can really propel to infinity and beyond. However, if misused, the fall from grace is full of turbulence.
When working with electricity puns always make sure to be grounded to prevent shocking results.
Mr. Tea says, ”Don’t be a fool, stay in school!”
i c e i c e w a t e r
Architecture is an aspiring career path.
‘Pun’ puns don’t add up. The are starting to get negative receptions.
I’ll do algebra. I’ll even do calculus. But graphing is where I draw the line.
Plants should always rooted in the ground.
Never argue with people when they are right or nobody will be left hanging out with you.
Rocks make boulder moves. This means they are pelite and not jagged. Don’t take these puns for granite.
Cheese puns are grate because you don’t have to ask for parmesan to use them.
Eskimos have cold personality. It is an ice society, but some of their history chills my spine.
My dog died a few years ago. It was really ruff.
I am not a fan of wind turbines.
Life is like driftwood. You never know where you will float.
Christmas lights stick together. When one goes out, they all do.
Puns about communism are only funny if everyone gets them.
Rocket scientists cannot fuel around or something bad can happen.
A baker is someone who kneads to make baked goods.
I sometimes wear stripes to avoid being spotted.
Sponges are great at absorbing liquids.
Contrary to the name, relationships have nothing to do with boats.
There once was a lumberjack who was known as the hardest working lumberjack in the woods. Old Doolittle Dawort Deigh had a reputation and the complete respect of his coworkers for nearly 60 years. As we all know, tough lumberjacks can’t have sissy names. So many years ago, as was the tradition in the woods, old Doolittle Dawort Deigh was saddled with a nickname and had become known as simply Do Dah.
One tragic afternoon, old Do Dah was working his trade when a tree happened to fall the wrong way. Poor old Do Dah was squished flatter than a lumberjack flapjack. His coworkers, distraught at the thought of breaking the news of Do Dah’s death to his elderly wife, decided that perhaps if bad news was presented in a somewhat good way, it might soften the blow.
So that afternoon, old Do Dah’s fellow lumberjacks gathered on the stoop of the now widowed Mrs. Deigh and hesitantly knocked on the door. It took a few minutes for the old widow to make it across the room to the door. Finally as the door creaked open, the chorus of lumberjacks launched into a rousing rendition of
♪ Guess who died in the woods today ♫ Do Dah, Do Dah. ♫ Guess who died in the woods today Old Do Dah Deigh. ♬
I apologize for this wall of text, I didn't know where I should cut out parts because they're all relevant to the story. Sorry again.
Hey TFR people! So for background, I work at a kiosk in a mall where I repair cracked phones and do other mind numbing work that I can now probably do in my sleep. I've been doing this job for a little over two years and can fix an iPhone, for example, in about 15 minutes. I apologize for the wall of text. Anyway, this story happened last night.
So, a family of three walk up (mother, father and daughter) but only the father spoke to me and this is where conversation starts. Note: When I was handed this girls phone she had a case with this image on it and was already about to laugh. Customer will be C and I of course will be Me.
C: How much does it cost to fix my daughters phone and can it be fixed?
Me: Oh it's very repairable, after tax and labor, it comes to $xxx.xx.
C: Do it
Fuck, he's one of these guys...
Me: Alright then, I just need a name and signature on this disclaimer we have.
At this point, I've taken their phone and am prepping to work on it.
C: Do I have to use my real name?
PAUSE Now, over the 2+ years I've worked here, I have never heard this question. So I was kind of taken by surprise by it. For a minute, I thought he was one of those paranoid people. PLAY
Me: Um.. Well I guess you don't have to. It's preferred since we can look you up in our system faster later.
C: Oh ok.
I turn back around and start to use my tools on the phone when customer guy throws me another curve ball question.
C: Can my daughter still play the piano when this is done?
I manage to turn and see him smirking a little and go back to his serious poker face so I pick up that he's joking.
Me: Well I would hope so. Slight laughter
C: Oh ok great! She's never even touched one before so it's good to hear her skill won't change in the slightest.
I'm on the verge of outright laughing at this point. I manage to hold it back and finish my repair. I snap her grumpy cat case back on, hand her phone back when she mentions the home button isn't working.
Oh that's an easy fix
Me: Ah, don't worry. Give me one second and I'll have that fixed.
C: One. Try it now "Insert girls name"
Me: Haha well I haven't done what I need to yet.
I pull out a giant clear bag half full of spare parts.
**
... keep reading on reddit ➡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.”
Years ago I used to use a LexisNexis database of companies that would give corporate information like name, address, and general business description. While most of them were pretty bland, there were a bunch of them with some really cheesy puns, and over a few years I built quite a collection.
Today I share with you "NEXIS IS RIDICULOUS.txt":
I'll never forget when I was riding shotgun while my dad drove, and we were taking my friend Joe home. We had driven these streets hundreds of times, but at this moment, my dad released all these heretofore unheard-of puns.
We took a right on Cambridge Ave.
Dad looks over and stoically says in a gravelly voice with an -- American Indian?? -- accent, "First came iron horse… then came bridge."
Groans.
As we approach Minot Ln., he asks "do I turn here?" and Joe says "yes," to which dad replies "I don't know, Joe, I might, but I minot!"
Groans.
Finally, we make our last turn onto Cheyenne. Dad says with a deliberate, measured cadence, "You know, growing up, all the girls I met were so forward. It was weird. But then I met Shy Anne."
He finished his sentence right as we pulled into Joe's driveway. He put his right hand on the back of my headrest and turned to face us with a wide smile and the glittering, eyes of a puppy that just fetched on command.
Joe said "Thanks, Mr. Smith," and he got out and ran into his house.
The CIA had changed its recruiting practices, what with all the recent leaks and other problems. So Mr. Johnson was more than a little surprised to see a pine tree, which was dressed in a rather nice suit, waiting outside his office when he arrived at 9 am. He asked his secretary, "Gladys, who is this?"
"Mr. Johnson, this is Mr. Cone, our newest hire. He wanted to talk with you about the Honduras assignment."
Mr. Johnson spoke to Mr. Cone in his office. His new pine tree colleague was very knowledgeable and well-spoken, but there was something about him that threw Mr. Johnson off. He tried to dismiss his concerns as imaginary, but it gnawed at him all through the morning. He barely touched his lunch, as some of the things Mr. Cone had said were still swirling around and around in his mind. He was sure something was wrong, so he went in to see the head of their office branch, Mr. Smith.
"Johnson! Come right in, come right in," said Mr. Smith, puffing on a cigar. Mr. Johnson poured himself a tumbler of whiskey and sipped at it nervously.
"You're being rather quiet today, Johnson. Tell me, what's troubling you?"
"It's just this new guy, Mr. Cone," Mr. Johnson said carefully, staring at the bottom of his whiskey glass. "Are we sure we know him as well as we think we do?"
Mr. Smith took only a small puff from his cigar before letting his hand rest back on his desk. "Now really, Johnson," he sighed, "you're a good agent. Your caution has served you well in the past, but paranoia doesn't look so good on you. Mr. Cone has the most impressive resumé I've seen come across my desk in the last fifteen years. I've personally had him vetted by the best men in the business. He's going to be an asset to this office."
That was the response Mr. Johnson had been afraid of getting, but he continued to press his cause. "I understand that, sir. It's just that I'm getting the strangest feeling from this Cone fellow. Don't you think he's a little too perfect? A little too well-qualified?"
Mr. Smith stopped smoking his cigar altogether. A distant look came into his eyes as he mulled over the possibilities. "You don't suppose--"
"Yes," said Mr. Johnson, "I think he's a plant."
Note: I'm a mom, not a dad, but I'm pretty sure I only thought of this because my father-in-law tortures me with these kinds of stories almost constantly.
So I'm at the promotion ceremony of my girlfriend's Dad today. He's being promoted to Assistant Surgeon General so it's a pretty big deal. He's giving his speech and he's acknowledging all the people who are in his life and have come today to celebrate with him. He says this with Surgeon General Murthy sitting behind him, "there are also two of my daughters boyfriends here with me, Mr other daughter's boyfriend, and Mr. Jack The_Baboons_Ass. Let me tell you something about the Mr. The_Baboons_Ass, if you don't know him, you don't know Jack." The Surgeon General looks on not knowing what too think while I'm cracking up. The Surgeon General then comes up to me after the ceremony and introduces himself, saying "Nice to meet you Jack, I guess I do know Jack now" and walks away
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