A list of puns related to "Pacing"
I told him I was just passing the time.
I prefer the sidewalkeo.
She refused to pick up her pace because she was anti-lope.
Monday is a week day.
It’s the only way I can bring home the bacon.
...so I started walking back and forth with my whiskey.
A gas electric hybrid.
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
... keep reading on reddit ➡I guess I'm just looking for love in all the wrong paces.
A few years ago, we started a show that I quite frankly never thought would work.
Nearly four years later, including two sold out appearances at San Francisco Sketchfest and a local TV featurette, our show "Capitol PUNishment" is now streaming on Twitch Friday night at 8:30pm PST.
I hope it's ok to post this in here. If not, feel free to remove with no hard feelings. Just encouraging pun lovers to check out what is best described as "a fast-paced, in-the-moment spectacle that combines everything you love about gameshows, rap-battles, and "dad" jokes, into a unique and hilarious competitive format."
Our channel is twitch.tv/capitolpuns
Here's a little video to help paint the picture: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C2RE9PgmfXo
Your pace is familiar but I don't remember the mane.
Pickup the pace.
I was 16 and at a rowing regatta I was competing in. It was middle of the day and very hot everyone was under these massive gazebo/tent structures with big guide wires and these huge rusty steel tent pegs sledgehammered into the dirt.
Anyways I was running late for my race and my crew were yelling at me so I started running. The shortest way was through the spectator area on a big downhill towards the water so at full pace I went that way.
About halfway the top of my barefoot trips on the rusted top of one of these steel pegs and I fall face first and tumble through the dirt with my foot and ankle split open.
People run from all directions, medical staff etc someone holds a towel over my head for shade and I see my dad. He's looking down at me but it's hard to see through the dirt in my eyes and people around.
He asks "bloody hell mate, what happened?".
In agony I manage a "I kicked a tent peg".
He knelt down beside me, looked me in the eye and said "how far did it go?"
Jeff went to his local train station and begged for the job. He got a job, as a janitor. Every day he swept the train car floors. To make his job easier, he added certain style to his sweeping technique. He used a 3 level system for how powerful he wanted to sweep. He had a small sweep for small piles of dust. Medium sweeps for leftover chip bags and plactic bottles. And the Super Mega Large sweeps for when there were spider webs as big as the train.
Jeff was a master sweeper, so he got Promoted!.. To hobo kicking. Nowadays he comes to the train station early in the morning, finds the nearest hobo, and kicks him out. However, Jeff's legs hurt after several strong kicks, so he used his 3 level system in hobo kicking. He had a small kick for tiny, bite sized hobos. Medium kicks for your average sized hobo. And his Super Mega Powerful kick for 300 pound hobos.
Jeff was sooooo good at kicking hobos and he was Promoted!.. to coal shoveling. Jeff arrives 20 minutes before his train departure, loads up with the conductor, and shovels coal. likewise with his legs, Jeff's arms got tired after several large piles of shoveled coal, so he used his 3 level system to rest Jeff's weak arms. Jeff dumps small piles of coal in the incinerator to send the train at a slow pace. He dumps a Medium pile for a somewhat fast pace. But when the train station's 30 miles away and he's scheduled to arrive in 7 minutes, Jeff uses his Big Gargantuan Humongous shoveling strength to send the train at super sonic speed!
After all of Jeff's many years of working for this train station, they finally promote him to Train Conductor! Jeff shows up to work 30 minutes early on his first day, conducts the train for his first time ever, and crashes the train. He injures 30 and kills 13 more. Jeff is sentenced to Death.
The day of Jeff's execution, he's asked for his last meal. Jeff tells the guard that he wants a 13 foot stack of pancakes and a 40 ounce jug of green Kool-Aid. Jeff takes exactly 34 minutes to eat with it all. 26 Mintues later, Jeff is taken to the electric chair.
Jeff sits down in the electric chair, and is strapped in by a nearby guard. After all the safety precautions, they turn on the electric chair.
BZZZZZZ
Nothin happened. The guard is confused and Jeff is confused. The guard trys it again.
BZZZZZZ
Nothing. Jeff doesn't even move a muscle. The guard decides to let Jeff go since he can't kill him. Before Jeff leaves, the guard has one question.
Guard : "Excuse me um, J
... keep reading on reddit ➡Took my iMac in because the hard disc failed. The machine is 6 yrs old so I was made to feel embarrassed coz it was 'vintage and obsolete, Apple don't carry parts and can't help'. I was becoming a bit pissed off at the attitude I was getting then more pissed off when Mr Genius started to tell me to buy some suction pads that glaziers use to carry sheets of glass around, pull out the screen, undo 18 screws etc etc to change the disc myself. That's when I hit him with...
"Glaziers' suction pads? I thought they were only compatible with windows"
He didn't even flinch. Just completely ignored it and carried on sneering at me for having the audacity to be using an old machine. I left feeling like a piece of shit with only pride in my joke keeping me going.
They got in a heated argument and then decided to slug it out. Even though they did so at a snail's pace.
A Pace Making Pace Makered Peso Maker.
It’s a nice change of Pace
..you're just putting them through their paces
It's entitled "The Tomato Paced"
About halfway through the valley, drumbeats started rolling from the mountains around them. Everyone in the party was confused, but the local guides started to panic.
"We HAVE to get out of here by sundown, OR ELSE".
The explorer orders his men to pick up the pace, and keep moving. A couple hours later, The drums start beating more and more frantically. Again, the guides say: "Keep moving, WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE".
A bit later, the men hear horns echoing from the hills.
The explorer asks his guides: "what was that?"
They respond: "theres no time, we need to be out BEFORE SUNDOWN, we only have a few hours!!!".
Exasperated, the explorer asks "Why? What could be so urgent? And why do we have to get out by sundown?".
The guides reply, "at sundown, the bagpipe solo starts!"
He tells the farmer that he wants to speak with his animals so he can check how their life there is.
The farmer reluctantly leads the inspector to the paddocks, the inspector notices some cows and approaches asking "Hello Ms Cow, how are you finding life on this farm?" The cow replied in a ventriloquistling voice, "I love my life on the farm, I get grass all day and get put indoors at night". The farmer is amazed at the sight before him.
The inspector makes his way to the duck pond and asks the ducks, "Ducks, how is your life at this farm?" The duck, like the cows reply "I love this farm, we get grain and the big pond. We love our life here".
The inspectors continues his way through the farm with the farmer in tow eventually reaching the sheep pen. As he makes his way towards the sheep the farmer quickens his pace catching the inspectors. "I have something to tell you before you chat to the sheep, THE SHEEP LIE!
There isn’t another soul on the street.
Suddenly, from out of the gloom, comes an ominous bump...bump…bump.
He looks behind him and spots a furtive, shadowy thing coming down the street after him.
Unnerved, he picks up his pace, finally breaking into a panicked run.
He looks behind him again, and the shadow is closer.
Bump…bump…bump.
The glow of a streetlight illuminates the shadow momentarily, and, to the man’s horror, it is a coffin, bumping down the sidewalk.
He quickens his pace, running as fast as he can go, but the coffin only pursues more quickly.
BUMP…BUMP…BUMP!
He reaches his house, fumbles frantically for his keys, and slips in the door just as the coffin reaches his front steps.
He slams the door and leans against it, catching his breath.
Bump…bump…bump.
There is a moment’s silence, and the man wonders if he dares to breathe.
Suddenly…. Bump…bump…bump…Bump…
BUMP! BUMP!
BUMPBUMPBUMPCRAAAAASH!!!!
He rebounds away as the door breaks off its hinges.
Scrambling to his feet, he charges up the stairs, and the coffin races after.
BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP!
Terrified, he backs into a corner and starts throwing everything within reach at the coffin — a handful of papers, a vase, a box of crackers, a lamp — but the coffin keeps coming!
BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP BUMP INCHESFROMHISFACE, and nothing seems to slow it down!
His hands fall upon a bottle of cough syrup, and he throws that at the coffin, too!
The coffin stops.
At work today, a friend of mine came in with two dried Carolina Reaper peppers. If you aren't familiar with these bad boys, they are hotter than Lucifer's testicles themselves. 2.2 Million Scoville units. Two times hotter than the ghost pepper.
To put it into perspective, a jalapeno is about 5000 scoville units. This one was 2.2 fucking million.
Anyway. I walked past my buddy's desk and he asked if I wanted some of the pepper.
OF COURSE I DID!!!
He gave me 1/4 of one of these little peppers and he even dared me to chew it for 15 seconds before swallowing. Which I did. To say that my mouth felt like the burning hemorrhoids of satans budding asshole would be a vast understatement.
One of the girls who sat near my buddy looks at me -- pacing back and forth around the room, sweating, crying -- and she says:
>"Cane-Dewey, are you alright!?"
I could barely breathe let alone speak. But through all the pain and angush, I still managed to mutter out:
>"No, I'm half left.
I would've won, but I couldn't pickup the pace.
So I told her to pick up the Pace
He's a fast-paced Jazz Big Band director. When a section is lost, he ALWAYS says this line, "Be alert. [dramatic pause] The world needs more lerts."
An older man and older woman were walking past the art department at my school. They talked about art for a bit, then the woman nudged the man and said "I bet you have an artistic side."
He said "yeah, I can draw flies."
And he waits. They walk a few more paces. "I don't shower very often."
This was one of her favorite jokes she loved to tell: One day, a man was walking home after a long day at work. As he waited for a crosswalk signal, he glanced back and noticed a coffin standing down the block. "Odd," he thought, but he ignored it and continued home. He turned the corner and managed to catch a glimpse of the coffin again. This time is was closer to him... like it was following him. He picked up his pace and ran into his apartment complex. The coffin was right behind him. In a fright, he dashed up the stairs to his place, locked the door and barricaded himself in the bathroom. Thud, thud, thud! The coffin was banging on the bathroom door. The man frantically looked for something to defend himself. Just as the coffin busted through the door, the man grabbed some cough syrup from the medicine cabinet, threw it at the coffin ... and the coffin stopped.
...pace-maker
An old-slow snail decides one day that he has had enough of the townsfolk belittling him for his pace. He spends about three-days making his way over to the Car-Dealership so that he can buy himself a sports car.
While at the dealership he asks the salesman if they will customize his Corvette for him. The Salesman replies, "Sure! What can we do for you!?"
The snail replies, "I would like you to paint a big, red "S" on the side of my car?"
The salesman says, confused, "Of course we can."
The customization is done and the Salesman turns to the Snail and says, "We're all finished, but I have to ask---While looking through your information I couldn't find any reason why you would want an 'S' on your car---Your first or last name doesn't start with 'S', So--Why the heck did you want that 'S' on your car?!"
The Snail turns to him and replies gently- " For years I have been tormented by the people of my town, and now I'll get to fly by them in my fancy sports-car, and they'll all say: 'Wow! Look at that 'S' Car go!"
My wife and I were at the supermarket, when she looks at the list and announces "Oh, we need some juice concentrate."
I of course respond instantly by staring intently in the distance and stop walking.
She walks a few paces then looks at me confused. "Why did you stop walking?"
"You said we need concentrate."
"I know but..." then there's a long pause as she finally gets the joke. She responds by glaring at me and slapping the crap out of my shoulder.
Baby thought it was funny at least.
I got frustrated, and my dad was sitting across the room. Dad: "Stop rushing" Me, in a fast paced annoyance: "I'm not rushin' " Dad: "I know you're not, you're Irish" Insert groan here
We're cleaning house today, and she was saying we needed to pick up the pace to get it all done today.
I immediately opened the fridge and handed her our jug of Pace salsa.
She told me to get back to work.
<>{
He told me to pick up the Pace.
Me: Come on Dad, pick up the pace!
dad: Why? Did you drop it?
An Aussie blonde was sent on her way to Heaven. Upon arrival, a concerned St Peter met her at the Pearly Gates. 'I'm sorry,' St Peter said; 'but Heaven is suffering from an overload of godly souls and we have been forced to put up an Entrance Exam for new arrivals to ease the burden of Heavenly Arrivals.'
'That's cool' said the blonde, 'What does the entrance exam consist of?'
'Just three questions' said St Peter.
'Which are?' asked the blonde.
'The first,' said St Peter, 'is, which two days of the week start with the letter 'T'? The second is 'How many seconds are there in a year'?
The third is 'What was the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?''
'Now,' said St Peter, 'Go away and think about those questions and when I call upon you, I shall expect you to have those answers for me.'
So the blonde went away and gave those three questions some considerable thought (I expect you to do the same).
The following morning, St Peter called upon the blonde and asked if she had considered the questions, to which she replied, 'I have.'
'Well then,' said St Peter, 'Which two days of the week start with the letter T?'
The blonde said, 'Today and Tomorrow.'
St Peter pondered this answer for some time and decided that indeed the answer can be applied to the question.
'Well then, could I have your answer to the second of the three questions' St Peter went on, 'how many seconds in a year?' The blonde replied, 'Twelve!' 'Only twelve' exclaimed St Peter, 'How did you arrive at that figure?' 'Easy,' said the blonde, 'there's the second of January, the second of February, right through to the second of December, giving a total of twelve seconds.'
St Peter looked at the blonde and said, 'I need some time to consider your answer before I can give you a decision.' He walked away shaking his head.
A short time later, St Peter returned to the blonde. 'I'll allow the answer to stand, but you need to get the third and final question absolutely correct to be allowed into Heaven. Now, can you tell me the answer to the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?'
The blonde replied: 'Of the three questions, I found this the easiest to answer.' 'Really!' exclaimed St Peter, 'and what is the answer?' 'It's Andy.' 'Andy??' 'Yes, Andy,' said the blonde. This totally floored St Peter and he paced this way and that, deliberating the answer. Finally, he could not stand the suspense any longer and turning to the blonde, asked 'How in God's name did you arrive at
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