...it does more than meats the eye.
After a test for my blood type came back as Cabern-A positive.
I applaud the effort, but given how little space the trucks have in the first place, it seems like there's really not much room for waste to begin with. So, I've gotta ask...
How much food would a good truck chuck if a food truck could chuck food?
It was touch and go from there on.
Mostly golf strokes, swimming strokes, tennis strokes etc.
Because his partner is always Robin.
So they had to cut coroners.
This joke caters to the lowest common denominator.
My colleague asked me "will they be going cheap?", I said "no they'll be going bwaark!"
Still laughing at myself.
It wasn’t a grate day today.
Because the Isis melting.
Please raise your arm.
... The steaks have never been higher
My kids keep listening to a song and apparently want me to make it a little quieter, or "turn down 4 watts"
He's not a flight risk.
My butcher is going from five days a week to four days a week in order to ease himself into retirement. I don't think I can shop there anymore. It's just too odd having a butcher who can't do cold turkey.
The ISIS melting.
I fear it's just the tip of the iceberg.
But no. I was charged $30 a pop.
It didn't help me one bit!!!!
“Sure, it does.” I said. “It’s the only way I can see the numbers.”
Trying to reduce the enormous amount of laundry associated with kids,
I said, "you don't need to clean your rocketship. It's not dirty. Space is a vacuum"....
I could hear my wife's eyes roll in the next room. Success!
Oh well, hindsight is 1.
Knock Knock / Who's there?
Interrupting cow wh—
There should be a Trump version.
Knock knock / Who's there?
Interrupting Trump wh—
I went to bed 7 times last night
...but don't worry, everything's going to be A-OK!
So this surgeon always posts pictures of the masks he wears during his surgery on Instagram. He does this every single time he has a surgery, and his nurses can never understand why. Eventually, he garners a massive following on Instagram. So, he goes into his supervisor's room, and he says, "Hello, it's a pleasure to see you". The supervisor says, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" The surgeon says, "Well, my Instagram business is really taking off. I think it would be better for me to quit being a surgeon and focus on Instagram full time". The supervisor thinks he's a little crazy but decides to let him do what he wants. The former surgeon now goes and buys as many masks as he can to sustain his Instagram account. Eventually, he becomes so wealthy that he is able to buy all these lavish things and not have to worry about economic failure. However, one day, he decides to begin posting pictures of medical needles on his Instagram account instead of masks at about the same time that he gets a horrible sickness that is almost always fatal. Because he posts pictures of masks now, his account begins failing, and even though he tries to save it, he's unable. He no longer has any money to treat the illness and is on his deathbed. His entire family is surrounding him, and his father leans in to hug him. As this happens, the ex-surgeon says in a weak voice, "Dad, where did I go wrong?" The dad, with tears in his eyes, seeing what his son has been reduced to and sadly knowing his dear son's death is imminent says, "You post syringe, you lose subscriber"
it's what it's
Its a cut-throat business
A very proactive step to reduce the likelihood of anything else going viral.
I’m in alkynes of trouble.
He told the man to stand at least 3 hours a day, which should reduce the symptoms - and to come back in a month. A month passes and the doctor is seeing the man again. He asks if the symptoms have improved. The man says, “No, but I’ve only been standing for one hour a day”. The doctor says he understood.
I’ve been caught in a terrible cycle.
It's called the iSpy
Dwayne Johnson recently came to the arts and crafts store I own looking to buy equipment for the wardrobe department for his latest movie. He asked if we could quickly fill a large order of cloth-cutting shears. I told him yes, but given the rush, we couldn't offer a bulk discount. For the next hour, Mr. Johnson haggled with me, insisting on paying a single, reduced price for the order of shears rather than the standard per-item price.
With my frustration growing, Mr. Johnson wouldn't back down. Finally, he made a desperate attempt to get the deal he wanted: he suggested we play any simple game of my choice; winner sets the price structure for the shears. He then asked me what I wanted to play.
Fed up, I shouted: Rock! Pay per scissors!
It will reduce your concentration.
Because we’ve already reduced and reused them.