Kleenex.
So before I gave it to her I made sure I combed my hair and tucked my shirt in.
"Our 2020 vision is your 20/20 vision"
Because he sawdust.
I don't live in AZ anymore, but you know what they say, once a donor always Sedona!
"You mean a toy-yoda?"
~my husband
We have excellent punmanship!
I fell on my ass!
Now he can’t even look at himself in the mirror.
They’re so remarkable!
It was my longest running joke of the year.
Boo-lean Algebra
Personally, I think it's neat.
Me: There’s a spider in your bra.
"Make it neat."
Me: "You can't possibly B Sirius."
Then I saw another marine animal, and I thought it was otter.
Wife: can you bring him to the dentist today and stay in the room with him?
Me: why do I have to stay in the room?
Wife: in case the dentist has to tell you something important.
Me: can't I just wait for the report at the end?
Wife: what report? There's no report!
Me: so the molar report is fake news?
I heard that in college he had a couple of degrees.
It's 50 Cent featuring Nickelback!
An ottoman
...and finds himself in hell. Walking around, he runs into the devil.
Devil: Why are you so sad?
Guy: Why do you think? I'm in hell.
Devil: Hell's not so bad. We actually have a lot of fun down here. You a drinkin' man?
Guy: Sure, I love to drink.
Devil: Well you're gonna love Mondays then. On Mondays, all we do is drink. Whiskey, tequila, Guinness, wine coolers, Diet Coke. We drink until we throw up and then we drink some more.
Guy: Gee, that sounds great.
Devil: You a smoker?
Guy: You better believe it.
Devil: All right! You're gonna love Tuesdays. We get the finest cigars from around the world and smoke our friggin' lungs out. If you get cancer, it's okay -- you're already dead.
Guy: Golly!
Devil: I bet you like to gamble, too.
Guy: Yes, as a matter of fact I do.
Devil: Good, because Wednesday is gambling day. Craps, blackjack, horse races, you name it. You like to do drugs?
Guy: Yes, I love to do drugs. You don't mean...?
Devil: That's right! Thursday is drug day. Help yourself to a great big bowl of crack. Smoke a doobie the size of the Titanic. You can do all the drugs you want, and you'll never die -- you're already dead.
Guy: Neat! I never realized hell was such a happenin' place!
Devil: You gay?
Guy: No.
Devil: Oh, you're gonna hate Fridays
I thought he looked neat, but my friends only said I did a half-ass job
He took a sip of the drink, his wife took a sip and then set the cup down between them.
As he began to eat his few bites of hamburger, the people around them were looking over and whispering.
Obviously, they were thinking, "That poor old couple...all they can afford is one meal for the two of them."
As the man began to eat his fries, a young man came to the table and politely offered to buy another meal for the old couple.
The old man said, they were just fine, they were used to sharing everything.
People closer to the table noticed the little old lady hadn't eaten a bite.
She sat there watching her husband eat and occasionally taking turns sipping the drink.
Again, the young man came over and begged them to let him buy another meal for them.
This time the old woman said, "No, thank you, we are used to sharing everything."
Finally, as the old man finished and was wiping his face neatly with the napkin, the young man again came over to the little old lady who had yet to eat a single bite of food and asked, "What is it you are waiting for?"
She answered, "THE TEETH!"
Once upon a time there were three little pigs, Pork Chop, Hambone, and Bacon.
The boys lived at home with their mother. One day their mother said, “I no longer have enough food to feed you boys, you need to go out on your own and find your fortunes.”
Not wanting to upset their mother they left the house together to seek their fortunes.
Several miles into their journey Bacon, the little pig everyone liked best, said, “Let’s build our houses here! This seems like a great place to start making our fortunes.”
Pork Chop and Hambone agreed. So they all began building their houses.
Pork Chop, the laziest of the bunch, decided to build his house out of straw, which he apparently stole from a nearby field. It was not a very sturdy building material, but Pork Chop didn’t care. All he wanted to do was play all day, and he didn’t want to spend too much time building.
Hambone was willing to work a bit harder and he decided to build his house out of sticks which he procured by de-limbing every tree within a 300 meter radius of their homestead.
Hambone and Pork Chop were happy. Now all they had to do was to play and sleep the rest of the day.
Now Bacon was a hard worker. He knew that his brothers had used bad materials and shoddy construction methods and he wanted to build the best house he could. He found several tons of bricks stacked in neatly ordered pallets in the forest which he decided to use for his building material. It took him several days, but when he was done Bacon had the best house on the homestead.
The next day a wolf, Scott Howard, happened upon the pig brothers and their new homestead. He spied the straw house and smelled Pork Chop inside and began to think to himself that Pork Chop would make a mighty fine meal, so Scott went and knocked on the door.
Scott said, “Little Pig! Little Pig! Let me in!”
Pork Chop replied, “No way José! Not by the hairs on my chinny chin chin!”
Scott, undeterred by the reply says, “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your crappy straw house to the ground!”
Scott began to huff and puff. He was evidently having some sort of asthma attack, but after a few tugs from his handy dandy rescue inhaler, he was able to muster enough wind to blow Pork Chops straw house to the ground.
Pork Chop narrowly escaped Scott’s massive jaws. Scared, and now homeless, Pork Chop ran for the nearest shelter he could see. Hambone’s house.
Scott, undeterred, chased Pork Chop to his new hiding place. Scott was very pleas
... keep reading on reddit ➡At least two other dads there gave me a knowing smile.
Even my dyslexic friend thinks he’s neat.
He orders nothing, and instead just sits down at the bar and begins reading a newspaper.
“What’ll it be?” Asked the bartender.
“Nothing.” Replied the communist, his face concealed behind the newspaper.
“You don’t want anything?” Said the bartender.
“No!” Replied the communist.
“Look,” said the bartender “you can’t just sit at the bar and read without ordering anything. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Do you know who I am?” Asked the communist, as he slowly lowered the newspaper, revealing combed back black and grey hair, a large, bushy mustache, and a neatly kept Officer uniform with two gold stars pinned to the left breast.
The bartender stepped back, shocked. “Well now you’re just Stalin!”
But please leave them in a neat pile, it's hard enough to pick though the trash as it is.
Hanging out drinking some beers with some people, one girl asks the host, "Where should I put my cans?" To which I deftly reply, "I think you should probably just keep them in your shirt". Host loses it, girl looks kind of embarassed, quick to apologize to her and she was cool about it.
Car-neat-as
She was originally going to school for radiography but has changed her mind and decided to go a different route
Her: "I'm going to major in Kinesiology."
Me: "What's that?"
Her: "It's the study of the human body with relation to movement and fitness."
Me: "That sounds neat. What do you already know about it?"
Her: "Next to nothing. But I also don't know Chemistry. Well, except for the basics."
Me: "What about the acids?"
You're neat.
So every night for the past almost 6 years I sing her the Sunshine Song
You know, "you are my Sunshine, my only sunshine."
And after a few years I got tired of it and would start songs from the nightmare before Christmas (because I'm a big elfman nerd) and Part of your world (because I'm completely obsessed with singing out of key chick verses and the little mermaid is dope af) but she would SCREAM anytime I started anything that wasn't the Sunshine song, I love this, so I go on for a couple bars while she's screaming then calm her down and sing the right song. To be fair, she likes the I'm On The Outside by boingo, so I belt that too. Although it's only acceptable in the car.
Now here I want to add that in the description of the event I will place a * where she interrupts me and the words immediately after that * will be her words.
Ok, so she's in bed just now and I said What song do you want me to sing?
Obvs sunshine dude.
So I start with the "look at this stuff, isn't it neat?"
And she's not screaming, she has a smile on her face so my mind is like "did she become ok with this, can I finally sing a different song than sunshine and eponas song?" So I keep going thinking that I finally won.
I get to the line, "Fliiping your fins, you won't get too **fart!"
I'm fucking dead this kid played me like a fiddle.
Someone call 911 I'm ded
Something about birds came up on the news and I pulled this joke out.
"Man, I think birds are really neat, is that weird?"
"No, why would it be weird?"
"Well, people are always telling me I should live my life without egrets."
/cue groans
I have written this book to sweep away all misunderstandings about the crafty art of punnery and to convince you that the pun is well worth celebrating.... After all, the pun is mightier than the sword, and these days you are much more likely to run into a pun than into a sword. [A pun is a witticism involving the playful use of a word in different senses, or of words which differ in meaning but sound alike.]
Scoffing at puns seems to be a conditioned reflex, and through the centuries a steady barrage of libel and slander has been aimed at the practice of punning. Nearly three hundred years ago John Dennis sneered, “A pun is the lowest form of wit,” a charge that has been butted and rebutted by a mighty line of pundits and punheads.
Henry Erskine, for example, has protested that if a pun is the lowest form of wit, “It is, therefore, the foundation of all wit.” Oscar Levant has added a tag line: “A pun is the lowest form of humor—when you don’t think of it first.” John Crosbie and Bob Davies have responded to Dennis with hot, cross puns: “...If someone complains that punning is the lowest form of humor you can tell them that poetry is verse.”
Samuel Johnson, the eighteenth century self-appointed custodian of the English language, once thundered, “To trifle with the vocabulary which is the vehicle of social intercourse is to tamper with the currency of human intelligence. He who would violate the sanctities of his mother tongue would invade the recesses of the national till without remorse... ”
Joseph Addison pronounced that the seeds of punning are in the minds of all men, and tho’ they may be subdued by reason, reflection, and good sense, they will be very apt to shoot up in the greatest genius, that which is not broken and cultivated by the rules of art.
Far from being invertebrate, the inveterate punster is a brave entertainer. He or she loves to create a three-ring circus of words: words clowning, words teetering on tightropes, words swinging from tent tops, words thrusting their head into the mouths of lions. Punnery can be highly entertaining, but it is always a risky business. The humor can fall on its face, it can lose its balance and plunge into the sawdust, or it can be decapitated by the snapping shut of jaws. While circus performers often receive laughter or applause for their efforts, punsters often draw an obligatory groan for theirs. But the fact that most people groan at, rather than laugh at, puns doesn’t mean that the punnery isn’t fu
... keep reading on reddit ➡My roommate isn't a fan of reading. "It's a waste of time," according to him, so he prefers movies. After finishing a movie today he told me it happened to be based on real events, saying he might have to look it up. The following was our IM.
Me: Neat, that sounds like a good read, yeah?
Roomie (b/c the movie had a sex scene): But words don't have tits, so there's one problem, lol
Me: Lord. Maybe you should try reading some smut sometime. It's puts on sunglasses titillating! Yyyyeeaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!
Roomie: Guh. Awful
I think I owe him a pint, now.
My parents visited me last weekend. Short on ideas, we decided to hit up a widely-respected art museum. They had some new exhibitions, some of which were a little outside our personal tastes and expectations.
We walked into a photography exhibit and saw, along one wall, a sheet of green. This sheet of green was a little higher and taller than the average door, and stretched all the way down that bit of wall plus a few feet onto the floor.
"Oh," I said, "a green screen. That's kind of a neat little thing to have here. Sort of an homage to that style of film, I guess?"
Little did I know. In hindsight, I don't know why I expected anything different.
My father and I approached the plaque beside it. There we learned the truth: This was not a green screen. No. No, this was a specially printed photograph.
A photograph... of a green screen.
There we stood, astonished at the audacity of the thing before us. "My God," I said aloud, "This, right here, this is something else. This is just plain genius. Can you imagine getting money for something like this? Why didn't we come up with this? This is gold!"
To which my dad simply responded, "No, son...
... it's green."
