A list of puns related to "Take The Long Way Home"
He scored a home run every single at bat, and always the exact same way. Way over right field, too high for anyone to reach, and it always landed in exactly the 17th row of the stands, give or take a couple feet.
He earned the nickname “the machine” for how consistently he hit the exact same spot every time. Right field, 17th row, every single time. He did this for 20 years before he retired. Tickets to the 2-3 seats that the ball always landed on sold for over $2k a pop by the time he retired because you were guaranteed at least a couple home run balls.
And the day he retired a reporter asked him “How does it feel to be retiring as the greatest hitter of all time?”
Hugh just looked at the reporter puzzled. “What do you mean?” He said.
The reporter clarified “literally over 5,000 times you went to the plate and hit a home run to right field, 17th row of the stands!”
Hugh looked dejected and disappointed “yeah, my greatest failure...”
“What do you mean?” Said the reporter incredulously.
Hugh let’s out a long sigh, and looked down at the ground quietly for a moment before finally speaking.
“I’ve been aiming left this whole time”
In my opinion we should beat the shit out of constipated people because:
Laxatives are an unhealthy way of dealing with feces. On the other hand, beating the shit out of someone is a good way to practice sports activities like, running, grip strength, punching techniques etc.
Other methods of dealing with feces take alot of money. Laxatives aren't cheap in our flawed healthcare system! On the other hand, there are people that are willing to pay you to beat the shit out of you. By using this method you can become richer and deal with your shitty problems.
Constipation requires being in the bathroom for a long time. This can be very lonely for the people involved. However, beating the shit out of others can be done in any place. Your home, the local park, or even the shady street corner! Not only that it's a very social activity, requiring a minimum of at least 2 people, but usually done in groups of 2-5 people.
Although some people might say, that beating the shit out of each other is violent, most of them have never been to a public toilet and hence are unable to realize how much more painful and violent the alternative is.
In summery, beating the shit out of people is a good, legitimate, and affordable alternative to laxatives and is a better, more progressive way, to deal with constipation.
And so the string decides that he shall stop at his favorite Pub and treat himself to a pint before going home to the wife. But after a decent walk he arrives at the pub to find a new sign on the door that reads " No Strings Allowed".
The string becomes infuriated. "How dare they" he thinks to himself. After having been a loyal patron for 10 years he decides this injustice is not to be tolerated and comes up with a plan.
He takes a moment and steps into the back alley way to be discreet. While he is there he ties himself into a knot and frays the top. Content with his disguise he marches back around to the front, enters the bar and has a seat when requests a pint of beer.
The bartender being a little suspicious looks at him a little uneasily but just can't seem to peg what the problem is. He serves him the beer regardless while keeping a close eye on the suspicious character. A little while later the string decides that the week at work has been so long that he is deserving of two pints of beer before going home to retire for the weekend.
It is just at that point when the bartender is serving him his second pint that he pauses and looks at the string and says "Hold on one minute! Aren't you a string?"
To which the string replied, "Sorry, I'm a frayed knot".
when there was a terrible accident. The fire in his forge had gone out of control and set fire to the shop. The blacksmith nearly lost his life. He was bedridden for many months and relied on the help of his children and grandchildren to feed him, bathe him, and take care of all of his needs. Eventually he was able to get back on his feet, though his outlook on life had turned quite grim. He was now able to take care of himself, but he had lost much of his strength and dexterity from the injuries he sustained and he was unable to practice his trade. He fell into a deep depression and he spent most of his days sitting at home in front of the fireplace gazing into the flames, longing for the days when his strong hands could grasp a hammer and strike a hot piece of iron, slowly forging it into a beautiful piece of work.
One evening when the old man was sitting in front of the fire, he heard a knock at the door. It was his granddaughter, whom he hadn't seen in many months. She had overheard her father talking to her mother about how her grandfather was slowly slipping away into depression and hopelessness and she wanted to help. To the old man's surprise, she had brought him a puppy. "I thought that since you're always here all by yourself that you might want someone you keep you company," the granddaughter said. The old man's eyes welled up with tears and the little puppy instantly jumped into his arms and began licking the tears from his face. The old man and his granddaughter spent the next several hours sitting on the floor of his house watching the puppy chase around a rubber ball, bouncing, jumping, panting, and licking. In that short time, the old man had made complete turnaround from being sad, lonely, and hopeless, to smiling from ear to ear, full of joy with his new-found companion. As the hours grew late and the puppy grew tired, the granddaughter said "Well Opa, I'm glad you like your puppy, but it's late and I should be heading home. By the way, what are you going to call him?" "Life," said the old man, "because he has given me a new meaning and joy to mine." The granddaughter kissed her grandfather on the cheek, wished him goodnight, and she left.
Many years passed and all the while, the old man and his little dog were inseparable. Everywhere the old man went, Life was always with him whether it was the post office, the grocery store, and even when the old man went to the barber shop, the little dog would sit patiently until the last hair on
... keep reading on reddit ➡Yesterday, I was running back from the school bus after asking the driver to give me a moment because my disabled son had had an accident and I was about finished cleaning him up. It was raining and muddy and I was in my bare feet, but this is the norm out here.
On the way back I managed to get my big toenail ripped up off the nailbed down to about halfway to the cuticle. Never done that before in 31 years, and oh my, I have to say it was a whole different level of exquisite agony when I finally noticed it. Funny how you never notice things like that until you see all the blood and how it doesn't even hurt until you touch it.
Sparing you the details of tracking in blood for five minutes before I even noticed I'd done it, the husband cringed quite a bit when he got home from work and saw it.
Fast forward to today--my period started and I had one hell of a headache all day long. He gets home from work and asks, "you ok, babe?" Because I'm usually pretty cheerful when he walks in the door, but today I was cranky as fuck.
"Eh, period started. Headache. Glad you're home, I can take a pain pill and you can watch the kids."
"Oh." He looked me up and down slowly and grinned. "So... now you're hurting from head... to toe?"
Motherfucker.
There are three classes of cheerios, the lower class (plain ol' cheerios), the middle class cheerios (frosted), and the elite class (honey nut). One soggy morning in Seattle, a plain cheerio awoke in his single room apartment. He looked out at the still sleepy city, blanketed in a mist of rain. He quickly got dressed and put his shoes on, this would be the day. He stood propped against the bus stop, smoking a cigarette. "God I have got to stop this habit." He thought to himself. Glancing back and forth at the bustle of cheerios, he saw her. She looked about 25, devastatingly gorgeous, and he could smell the honey from where he stood. "Excuse me ma'am," his voice quivered, "I - I think you might be the most beautiful cheerio I have ever seen." She smiled and her otherwise golden brown face grew red. " This is a long shot, but will you marry me?' She was obviously caught off guard by this, but her red lips formed the word, "Yes." They raced through the morning mist of the city, and arrived at her fathers house. The cheerio bent down in front of her father. "Sir, I would like to ask for your blessing in marrying your daughter" "No! You are a regular cheerio and my daughter needs a high quality honey nut" he snapped. "But sir." "No means no damnit!" "Sir this is very unrea-" "You come back a honey nut and you'll have my blessing, my daughter is not about to marry a low life like you." The cheerio sprinted home, tears streaming down his face. He fumbled against the lock and sprawled out on his bed. When he awoke it was early, his sheets had a dark silhouette from his wet jacket. He sat up and lit a cigarette. "Damn." he sighed to himself. Walking in front of his mirror, he noticed something different. His body was frosted! He had become a frosted cheerio! He darted out the door without shoes, reaching the honey nut household in no time at all. He banged on the door, and the beauty's father answered. "Sir I am a changed cheerio! I'm frosted!" he exclaimed. Her father had a stern look on his face. "You think you are any better? The dirt on my boots are worth more than you." he hissed. The old honey nut slammed the door on the young frosted. He heard the deadbolt click. The newly frosted cheerio didn't take the same way home. He stood on the edge of a bridge, feeling the cool autumn wind on his sugar coated skin. Was he really going to go through with this? Was it worth it? No he was a frosted cheerio now. He couldn't get the girl, but he was a changed cheerio. He
... keep reading on reddit ➡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":
At a wedding reception where the chocolates on the table were in nice looking package.
While watching a baseball game:
In regards to meatloaf my mother made:
While eating at relatives' house:
In regards to an inappropriately shaped child's toy:
When my brother and I were screwing around instead of helping in the garage:
After listening to a 3 minute voice mail from my mother:
Paul has a shitty life, his wife constantly berates him, his job sucks, his boss is a bully, his car is a shitty 85 ford pinto with a cracked windshield and is in bad need of a new transmission and to top it all off he's chubby, balding, and he has a small penis.
The only thing good in Paul's life is his friend Artie. Artie isn't the brightest bulb in the world, but he's always been there for Paul in the tough times. On October 5, 1953 Artie stood up for Paul against his bully in 7th grade. Artie got his ass handed to him at that time, but so did Paul. That incident resulted in a life long friendship. Paul and Artie went to the same High School together. They traveled around Europe that one summer in college. Artie was Paul's best man at his wedding. Everyone thought speech Artie gave was terrible, But Paul loved it Artie was his best friend.
Artie's life wasn't much better either, he never had the smarts for that great Job. In fact he was stuck in a dead end job as a construction labourer. Artie's car was pretty shitty too. Artie never married, but he was happy in the knowledge that at least he didn't end up with Paul's shitty wife.
For Paul's 46th birthday Artie was pretty broke, so all he could get his friend was a single lottery ticket. Artie being the sentimental guy that he was picked the date of the start of their friendship, and their respective ages (46, 45). Paul loved the present, and thought that the two of them should go to the Legion that friday to split a round of beers and listen to them call out the numbers.
On Friday they are both sitting there at the Legion having a laugh over a couple of beers when the cute lottery girl comes on the t.v. to read out the numbers. Paul pulls out the ticket and spreads it out on the beer stained table in front of them. The lottery girl starts reading out the numbers, 45, 10, 05. Both of Paul and Artie's hearts start beating, thats 200$ already. 53, Holy crap thats like a 10, 000 ticket. They both start losing their shit. 46....... Paul feints. He just won the jackpot. 37million dollars.
Two minutes later Artie finally revives Paul. Paul and Artie celebrate the night away, buy round after round for the people at the Legion and get absolutely shittered. They close out the bar and as the ugly lights come on they stumble blitzed, singing, onto the street arm in arm with the winning lottery ticket in hand and start the long walk back to Paul's place.
Halfway home, Paul comes to two drunken
... keep reading on reddit ➡I went to Cabo earlier this year with my girlfriend and her entire family. It was for her dad's 50th birthday. The two grandfathers were taking pictures, with their iPads, all week long. On our way back home waiting in the Airport terminal the grandfathers were off taking pictures of the plane we were about to board.
Girlfriend's step-mom: "Seriously!? Do they have to take pictures of everything?"
Me: "Well yeah, they're the paparazzi."
Groans all around. My girlfriend's father staring at me and clapping says, "I'll never be able to top that."
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