On The Move Puns

It’s a real page turner.

I was like 0MG

The other shop owner called his buddy to have someone trash their store. They sent Hugh, big guy like 6'3'' 300pounds. Hugh goes in and busts the store up and scares the Friars off, sending them back to the monastery.

The moral of the story is, Hugh and only Hugh can prevent Florist Friars.

Vincent Van Go

1. Huh Oklahoma seems like an OK move for him.
2. Aw man I hate Oklahoma never thought he would Stoopsolow.
3. Well I guess the news was going to come out Sooner or later.
4. Not surprising I heard multiple reports Lincoln him to the Big 12.
5. I bet Oklahoma fans are Riley happy today.
6. (The obvious one) this move really Hirts Alabama’s title chances this year.

... And said 'Honey, he will be e-turtle-y grateful.'

This is a true story, happened today.

I didn’t want to so I bailed

I said, "Technically, they're all outside lanes."

I told her that she is really boxing me in. Can't wait until these dad jokes become official.

http://i.imgur.com/np9XSde.jpg

Perpetuate

It was some Hierogifhics

I called animal welfare when I found a suitcase with four kittens in it.

"That's awful!" The lady on the phone said. "Are the kittens moving?"

"I don't know," I said. "But if they are, that explains the suitcase."

He was very Thoreau.

I guess he’s now an ex-cape-artist...

I said "I think you forgot my name, but I'm a Justin Well, thanks."

I tell them it’s stationary

When we moved to our current home, we were going a little crazy from the long drive and started personifying random things along the way that had names posted, (the street named Kirk, a Church named Baptis because the t fell off, and a bridge named after a Carl Woodard). Ever since, (almost a year now) the 5 kids and my wife all say hi to Kirk and Carl on the way home, each in their own way. I, however, being the Dad, use every opportunity to not speak to Carl... Instead I give dad-joke reasons why I refuse.

"Carl and I had a fight. He thinks it's just water under the bridge, but I can't get over it." My oldest daughter said, "Dad, come on, you should forgive Carl." My answer, "No, it's beneath me." My youngest daughter asks, "Dad, why don't you say hi to Carl?" My answer, "He makes me cross."

He died after a moving cargo truck dropped a load of watches in front of his car.

His tombstone reads: Here lies Ray. Clocked at 90 on the freeway.

A number of years ago, we moved to Allston, Massachusetts, the world capital of hipsters. You know, hipsters, the folk who wouldn't be caught dead doing, wearing or listening to something conventional.

Allston is separated in two by Massachusetts Turnpike, a major interstate highway. To the south is Allston Village, to the north is Lower Allston. There's a bridge across the Pike, connecting the two.

After a year, I realized that the hipsters tend to inhabit Allston Village and rarely show up in Lower Allston.

After two years, I figured that it was the bridge that they couldn't cross.

After three years, it finally dawned on me why hipsters couldn't cross the Mass Pike.

Do you care to know why hipsters can't cross the Mass Pike?

Do you?

I'll tell you.

It's too mainstream.

Now I have stable wifi.

He asked me, “dad how do you get your car across the ocean if you move to a different country?”

I told him, “you put it on a cargo ship. They make your car go across the ocean.”

I guess I’ll always live in my fathers chateau.

Right so there's this farmer yeah and he's obsessed with tractors. His whole live revolves around them. He eats, sleeps and dreams tractors, but one day his wife is killed in a tragic tractor accident. The farmer decides he's had enough and completely strips tractors from his life, moves off the farm and tries to move on without his wife and love of tractors

Years later he's going on a blind date with a woman he met online. The dates going well when all of a sudden the restaurant bursts into flames! Everyone's panicking trying to put the fire out when the farmer stands up and takes a huge breath in, sucking in all the fire and smoke. He runs outside and releases all of the smoke into the air and saves the restaurant. Everyone's amazed at what the farmer has just done as they thank him and go back to their meals. His date sits back down on complete shock and says 'that was amazing how did you do that?!'

The farmer looks her in the eyes tearing up and says 'I'm an ex tractor fan'.

Edit: Title spelling

They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.

And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!

Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?

"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"

In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and

for all in tents and porpoises.

I need a little something to Sweden the deal.

Back in my Senior year of college, my Granddaddy passed not long after my Senior Recital (roughly early April). After his passing I was informed that at some point in the 50's or 60's he had purchased the rights to a lake out in East Texas and named it Lake Givea. I asked my dad why Granddaddy named it that and he told me that neither he, my uncle or Granny ever got the same answer twice when they asked. I mention this lake as he left it in his will to me to now have the rights to Lake Givea and it was now mine. Bear in mind, this was also right after several storms had been through its area. A few weeks after Granddaddy's funeral, Dad and I went down to the lake to inspect it and see what was what with it and to start any possible repairs. We investigated and spent a lotof time trying to spruce up the place and schedule some much needed repairs to the area and figured we would check on it as things moved along. One week after months of repairs Dad and I decided to see the progress for ourselves instead of getting updates from the contractors. We stopped at a local joint near the lake to grab a bite and the news in a local paper that broke our hearts: after massive flooding nearby, my Givea Dam was broken.

Then all we will have left is the USB memory.

Things escalated quickly.

The sergeant hands him a stick and gestures to the training field.

"You'll have to use this, soldier. If you need to shoot someone, just aim your stick at them and shout 'Bangity bang-bang'. If someone gets too close to you, poke them in the gut with it as though it was a bayonette and shout 'Stabbity stab-stab'. Now get moving."

The soldier thinks this is pretty ridiculous, but to his surprise, when he aims his stick at a fellow trainee across the field and shouts "Bangity bang-bang!" the other soldier goes down in a theatrical display. Then, another trainee tries to run past him, so he pokes the guy in the ribs and shouts "Stabbity stab-stab!" and he too goes down, pretending to be dead.

So, the soldier starts running through the mock-battlefield, shouting "Bangity bang-bang" and occasionally "Stabbity-stab-stab", until eventually he realizes he's the last man standing.

He's feeling pretty proud of himself until another soldier rounds a corner and starts walking toward him. Slowly. Stiffly. Menacingly.

The soldier takes aim with his stick and shouts, "Bangity-bang-bang!"

But the other soldier doesn't go down this time. He keeps approaching, arms stiff at his sides, boots stomping aggressively into the ground.

The soldier begins to sweat. He clears his throat, adjusts grip on his stick and hollers, "Bangity bang-bang!"

But nothing happens. The other soldier keeps marching toward him.

Now the soldier panics. He pretends to reload his stick and desperately cries out, "Bangity bang-bang! Bangity bang-bang! Stabbity stab-stab!"

But to his dismay, nothing works.

Finally, the other soldier reaches him, kicks him in the shin and knocks him onto the ground.

He stands over the fallen soldier and says:

"Tankity tank-tank."

A large Russian company buys a batch of off-road Mercedes trucks. The deal also includes training of drivers to work with the new equipment. One such Mercedes catches up with an old MAZ truck on the road. At one point the MAZ stopped, then a man with a bucket jumped out of it and scooped some water from a puddle on the road and poured it into the fuel tank. Then he gets in the truck, lights it and sets off. The instructor in the Mercedes, who speaks a little Russiаn, asks the driver:

- What's happening?

"It's out of fuel."

"You keep fuel in puddles along the road?"

- No. This is water.

The German was silent for a few minutes and stated:

- The car in front of us is moving with water!

- No! It's moving with diesel!

The instructor decides to make fun of him and is silent until they reach the base. Excited, he goes there and shares with his colleagues what he saw. It turns out that someone else saw the same thing, but he doesn't know Russiаn and couldn't ask. He returns to his trainee and continues to question. If MAZ is running on diesel, why did the driver add water to the fuel tank? The Russiаn explains to him that the pipe that sucks the diesel is located just a few centimetres above the bottom of the fuel tank. At the moment it stops refuelling, there are another ten litters of diesel in the fuel tank. When water is poured, the level rises, then the diesel, which is lighter, rises from the top and the truck can travel many more kilometres. Amazed by this explanation, the German asks:

"Why don't they put the fuel pipe at the bottom of the tank?"

The Russiаn's in shock answers him:

- But what if there is water in the diesel?

Edit: How a MAZ truck looks like - https://youtu.be/roj5Xf55PDU

Ba dum TSSS

I watched one of my colleagues one day as he lifted a few rather large and obviously heavy laser printers. He started with a couple of HP printers of some variety and then went for the one I had been waiting for him to lift. He picked up the Brother printer and struggled to lift it onto the printers he already had on his trolley.

Quick as a flash I said to him that he "shouldn't strain so much. The printer's quite light."

He finally got the printer down and looked at me as though I was dumb before making the fateful error in his reply; "It's 35kg. If you think it's so light you move it."

I could only dead-pan him with my reply of "He's not heavy. He's my brother."

I laughed as he tried to punch me. It was well worth it though.

One night, I was too tired to move it out of the way when I had to pee. So I stood on the stool to tinkle. I now have my own streaming platform.

Just then a blind man appeared on a nearby path. The man asked the farmer what he was doing, and the farmer told him about his problem. The farmer told the man how he had tried everything, from singing to the trees, to shaking them, to blowing on them. The blind man thought for a minute and then instructed the farmer to try listening to the trees, because their song was not being heard. The farmer was skeptical, but figured he may as well try. He put his ear up to one of the small apples, and could barely hear the faintest song playing. He turned to ask the blind man how to hear it better but the man had disappeared.

Later that day the man told his wife, Andrea, all about what had happened. The wife was skeptical as well, but she told her husband to talk to their friend Jim the beet farmer, because he always had a healthy crop. The farmer obliged his wife and went and told Jim about his experience. Jim smiled, and he motioned for the farmer to come with him. The two walked to the middle of a field full of red beets. In the very center they found two golden beets. Jim told his friend to take the golden beets, and bury them into the soil near his orchard.

Night was approaching, but the farmer agreed to do what he was told. He thanked his friend and took the two beets to the center of his orchard, while his wife Andrea looked on. As he pushed them into the ground he started to hear the song of the trees. The song was a little louder, but still very quiet.

The farmer dug up the beets and began moving them to other spots. He soon noticed that as he buried them closer to his wife, the louder the song became and the apples actually started growing. The farmer, excited by his discover, ran over to his wife and stuck the beets into the soil at her feet. The apple orchard sung loudly and came to life with new growth. The farmer had the best crop he had ever had that year.

Moral of the story: If you want to listen to apple music, try plugging in your beets by ‘Dre.

Lately I've been watching a lot of Lord of the Rings. It started with watching the original versions after work to de-stress. Then I moved on to sneaking the Extended Editions. Recently, I started secretly hoarding the Director's cut versions. I think I may have a problem.

It's becoming hobbitual

"Oh look mum's making it lighter.. that's good because it was starting to get pretty heavy!"

One morning, his first mate woke him.

“Captain, the ship won’t move! The ocean is frozen solid!”

The pirate captain rose from his bed, yawned, and stretched. After a good scratch, he put on his boots and coat, and strode out of his quarters.

As he arrived at the bow of the ship, his men gathered around in nervous anticipation. He pulled out his pocket telescope and took a good, long look around the entire horizon. He collapsed his telescope, placed it back in his pocket, and clasped his hands behind his back. After some time, he tipped his head down toward his first mate and said:

“Ice sea.”

Today, I was riding with friends through downtown. We got stuck behind a pick up truck at a red light. The driver had a window sticker emblazoned across his window for a dot com. "WWW.FREEMANGAS.COM" We all commented on how it sounded like a scam site. Why would anyone post Manga to a web site for free? Maybe, they bootleg videos? And, why would you advertise on your big white Dodge Ram? It just felt like a weird sticker. The light changes and we move to the turn lane, right beside the driver door. More vinyl decals..."Freeman Gas." I am still laughing.

I used to be a crustaceologist that specialised in lobsters. I loved what I did, but I couldn't even get out of the house on my own after the accident, much less go to work. I fell into a deep depression.

My scientist friends wanted to cheer me up, and so they engineered a robot lobster that I could take care of. It was incredibly smart and slowly became my best friend. It was incredibly friendly and playful. It made every day a little bit brighter. I loved it like my own child. I named it Amy, after my beloved daughter that had moved away. For the first time since my disability, I started to feel truly happy. Motivated, I decided to go for brain surgery and finally get past the entire incident. It was risky, but I made it through. Life is better than its ever been now, and I owe it all to that one robot that changed it all.

Everything is so much better now, all thanks to my Lob-bot amy

A few years ago a group of researchers was working to find out if the shape of a snail's shell is at all dependent on aerodynamics. One of the ways to test this is to give the snails different shells in different shapes to see how this impacts them.

Obviously, they needed a baseline measure. The researchers decided the baseline--instead of being the shell that came with the snail--should be the snail with no shell.

Many thought that the removal of the shell would allow the snails to move more quickly but the researchers found that when they removed the shells from the snails they became more sluggish.

A frog goes into a bank to get a loan, he goes up to the teller, who's name was Patty and said,
"Hi, I'd like to get a loan out for a new lillypad.

Patty thought the situation was weird but complied with the frog's request anyway. She started off by asking the frog's name.
"What is your name?"

"My name is Kermit," the frog replied, "Kermit Jagger"

Patty was confused, "Why is your last name Jagger?"

"Well you see my father is Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones."

Patty, was still confused, "That's a weird last name for a frog."

Kermit, being somwhat offended, asked her in response,
"Well what is your last name if you don't mind me asking?"

"My last name is Whack." She responded

"Well that's a weird last name for a human." Kermit said.

So they move on and Patty gets more of Kermit's details and when she was finished, she asked him if he had any collateral.

Kermit pulled out a little porculan figurine of a pink elephant, Patty looks at the figurine and tells the frog she needs to show it to her supervisor. She goes to her supervisor and tells him, "Here's a frog out there named Kermit Jagger who wants to take out a loan for a lillypad, he's using this as collateral."

Her supervisor looks at the elephant figurine, and he tell her,
"That's a knick knack, Patty Whack, give the frog a loan! His old man's a Rolling Stone!"

At first, I didn't believe the rainbow would even hold me. But she held my hand as I stepped onto the outermost ring of color, and to my amazement, I didn't fall through.

But then she moved across the rest of the rainbow much faster than I was ready for. Soon she was dancing on the violet ring, and I could barely even see her.

I texted her: "Hey. Could you please come back and help me?"

But she left me on red.

They snuck from their beds in the middle of the night and met in the gloomy darkness in front of the house, shivering in the cold.

The first boy said in a loud whisper, "You guys bring anything?" He slid a gun out of his pocket. The second boy nodded and revealed a knife. The third boy pulled out a flashlight.

"You didn't bring a weapon?" the first boy asked. He shrugged and replied, "Sorry". And as if to prove it, he turned his pockets out to show nothing but stray lint and a pack of cough drops.

They crept in. The door shut behind them. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. The flash light clicked on. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door on the other side, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a dead body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They found a fully set, ornate dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal goblets, pitchers and silverware adorned the table. Spiders crept over ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hel

They crept in. It was pitch black and stone quiet. They were suddenly starting to regret this dare. Stupidly, only one brought a flash light. The aggressive darkness and inky black yielded with grudging compliance but always seeming to push back. They moved cautiously onward amid the dust and cobwebs. The floor creaked. They breathed in tight, quick breaths. You could hear a pin drop.

Suddenly, there was a deep moan. "OOOOOOOOUUUUU". It seemed from below them. The house had been abandoned for years. Who or what could make such a sound? The boys looked at each other, but continued on, hearts pounding in their chests.

As they proceeded into the kitchen they encountered a swarm of flies. Buzzing and beating their necks and faces, they rushed and stumbled to the door, not stopping to see what they were truly feasting on. They slammed the door behind them. Maybe a body? But no way were they going back to find out. And again came the sound, "ooooOOOOOooooOOUUU" but louder this time, and closer.

They proceeded through the dark into the dining room. They saw a fully set dining table covered in cob webs. Dust-covered regal-looking glasses, goblets and silverware adorned the table. Spiders climbed on ivory plates. Clearly a house of privilege and set for a grand feast which never happened.

Or, perhaps, met a fatal end?

They pushed on. But again that unearthly howl.

"oooooOOOOOOOOOOOUuuuuUUUUuuUUOOOOooo".

They found the basement staircase, and from below, the sounds seemed to be emanating. Could they proceed? Would they? Did they dare? Two of the boys looked at each other, faces filled with worry.

But the third said, confidently, "We're going down there." Not wanting to seem the weaker, the other two boys steeled themselves and nodded.

The stairs creaked and groaned evily under their feet. The rickety banister shook in angry defiance. Insects and vermin scattered underneath them with every step. They were descending into hell, they knew, but none would turn back.

And the sound: "oOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUuuuuUUOOOO". Now loud enough to fill not only their heads but seeming to claw at their very souls!

Now at the basement door! The antique, crying squeak of the hinges eeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEee made the boys wince and almost cover their ears. But they had to know. WHAT is making that horrible, terrible sound?

"ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUoooooUUUUUUUOOOOOOO"

In the center of the basement lay an unholy coffin! A twisted artistic expression of murder, decay and