The Old Apartment Puns

• you suddenly know all the words to every Eagles song.

• you get up early on a Saturday morning to make sure you’ll be tired enough for a couch nap that afternoon.

• you change your car’s oil exactly every 2,000 miles.

• mowing the lawn is no longer a chore, but a privilege.

• you can actually tell old John Wayne movies apart.

• your idea of fun is aimlessly wandering around the home improvement section of any store.

He decides he wants to spice up his day and call his dealer. He asks his dealer, "hey, do you have anything new I haven't tried?" His dealer responds, "I just got some new weed named after old cartoon characters! It's some potent stuff!" The guy accepts this and meets up with the dealer. When he gets back home, he goes to roll a joint and finds that it just doesn't want to stay rolled and keeps coming apart. Frustrated, he calls the dealer back. "This shit just won't stay rolled! What did you sell me?" The dealer responds, "that's just how the scooby doobie do!"

"Ain't those lumpy farts the shits?"

This is my favorite joke my dad told me. He passed away 11 years ago. When we were cleaning out his stuff, I found a blank book where he had written a bunch of dumb one-liners and favorite quotes. I photocopied them, cut them apart, and gave my sisters each an envelope full of dad's wisdom. I wish I could have seen their faces when they pulled this one out!

My sister gave me one of his old cowboy hats this week, so I've been wearing it a lot and thinking of him. Hope y'all got a chuckle out of this one.

Hey guys. As I'm sure most of you know, it's currently Thanksgiving in Canada. This time of year for me has, in the past, caused a lot of issues in my life.

To give a little bit of background on me, I'm usually an extremely healthy and fit guy, as I play high-level sports and have a physically demanding job. However, for much of my life, my willpower began to crumble around this time of year.

I first started taking my diet seriously when I was about 12 years old. I had some kind of realization where like, I dunno, I started looking at how jacked these movie stars were and was all, "wow, I want to be that cool too." Judging by the bowl cut I had when I was 12, my perception of cool may have been a little skewed, but I digress.

Anyhow, it was my first Thanksgiving where everything started falling apart. One of my relative's families ended up no-showing for dinner, so we were left with a load of Thanksgiving leftovers. For the next week, every single meal or snack I had was Thanksgiving themed. Sandwich? Turkey sandwich. Breakfast? Let's dollop some cranberry sauce on that bad boy. By the next week, my BGC (blood gravy content) was probably at like 1.0%.

You'd think I'd be sick of holiday food after that. But no. I loved it.

The tradition of refrigerated Thanksgiving snacks continued throughout the rest of my teen years. Like clockwork, the numbers on the scale would significantly jump upwards in October, with Halloween candy adding an extra layer of calories on top. By the time I reached 17, my waist had begun noticeably ballooning, and I realized it was all due to Thanksgiving turkey. Sure, I had some at Christmas and sometimes at Easter, but never like that. My mother would encourage this habit, making more food each year to be stuffed into our packed refrigerator.

The movie star bod I wanted for so much at the age of 12 was slipping a way. I needed to put an end to this.

Flash forward to October 2015, age 18. I had made a vow: I never again would place such putrid poultry onto my tastebuds. And ever since that fateful week of 2014, my vow had held true.

Each Thanksgiving, I can feel that craving for chilled turkey knocking on the refrigerator door of my fragile ego. For three years, I've held strong. But when will the garrison fall? When will that soft, biting flesh of the big bird smash it's way back into my life.

But so far, I've quit cold turkey.

We were helping an old lady move out of her apartment when my dad decides to get funny. He takes a clock off the wall and holds it out of the door and says "time out." We all just give him a stare and then he holds up the clock and says "I guess times up for these jokes." I just shook my head and decided I can't wait to be a dad.

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

Backstory: Many years ago I was living on my own about 45 minutes away from my parents. I had a stable job but didn't make much money and was broke most of the time. I had an old beat up car that was my only form of transportation. I would always have mechanical issues with the car and finally one morning it decided it wouldn't start no matter what.

I sheepishly had to call in to work and explain the situation and let them know that I would have to take a sick day but would figure some way to get to work the next day. I called my dad and he offered to come pick the car up on his trailer and take it back to his garage to work on it and get it in shape to trade it in.

He drives to my apartment, we get the car on the trailer and we are headed back to his house. The whole ride there I'm pretty pissed off and depressed about the whole situation. I'm worried about finding a new car and how I'm going to afford it and what I'm gonna do if I can't get it running again.

Dad senses my mood and pretty much keeps quiet the whole time. We get about three blocks away from his house and he utters this gem.

"Man, this car won't get off my ass. He's been tailgating me for 45 minutes now."

This was the perfect thing to snap me out of my funk and break the tension. I absolutely lost it. Only a Dad Joke could make me realize how trivial the whole thing was. I have told this joke to others who didn't really think it was that funny, but to me at the time it was the greatest thing ever.

Thanks Dad.

He opened the freezer, pulled our some Egos and said "I'm gonna have Waffle Apartment. Haha! Get it? Waffle. Apartment."

I couldn't help but laugh as our two year old gave a courtesy laugh.

So I just got a new apartment, and my sister was over at my old place, helping me pack and picking through some of my old stuff. I was stepping outside to throw some old stuff by the dumpster, when I heard her call from the kitchen, "What do you want to do with this pot?" Obviously, she was talking about a cooking pot, but I shouted loudly enough for my neighbors to hear, "What are you talking about!? I don't have any pot!"

I think I FELT her cringe, even though I couldn't see her.

So I had a old wooden chair that was breaking so i took it apart to throw in the fireplace. when i was down to just the seat my daughter asked if she could have it, I asked why. She said maybe you could make me a small easel with it.......... I told her I could Easel-y make one. Wife and daughter both just stared and then groaned

My dad told me this the first time on Halloween night back when I was 9. He tells it to this day to any of my cousins, nephews, or any kids that happen to linger too long at the house when he's giving out candy. It's a long one but I have always enjoyed it.

Back when I was about your age, I went on a Halloween adventure. There was an old abandoned house on our street where a series of grisly axe murders had taken place years before. The house had never sold and was left vacant and was left to fall apart. There was a local legend that if you went into the house on Halloween night, you'd be confronted by the ghost of the murderer himself, still looking for more victims to add to his terrifying story.

My friend Tom and I decided to go through with it one year. Knowing everyone would be too terrified to go into the house, we snuck in easily on Halloween night. The place was falling apart inside, the carpet was wet and moldy and the wallpaper was peeling off everywhere. We headed down carefully to the basement down a set of creaky stairs.

At first we found nothing. Just an empty creepy old house. Suddenly we felt as if we were being watched. I was looking through one of the rooms in the large basement when I suddenly heard Tom shriek. I spun around and turned my flashlight and Tom was being chased by something, no someone. It looked like it was the murderer! A crazed man with an axe!

We turned and tried to run anywhere. We were in the basement but couldn't get up the stairs because we were blocked. We ran into the side room which looked like it might have been the laundry years ago. We locked the door and looked for a way out. The only thing we could find was a small window that opened onto ground level. As I climbed out I heard a pounding on the door. I managed to wriggle my way through the window and turned around to help my friend Tom. Panicking, he managed to get his top half through the window when I noticed the pounding stop.

Tom was stuck! I kept trying to pull him up but I couldn't. I pulled as hard as I could as Tom panicked and thrashed even more. I thought something had him caught, but it was even worse. The murderer had gotten behind him and was holding him back! He was too strong for me to overcome and he was pulling Tom's leg!

Just like I've been pulling yours this whole time.

The the whole family (my mom, dad, and two sisters) are sitting in the living room and my mom asked me to pick up some ingredients from the grocery store. She starts listing them out loud, "I'll need heavy cream, eggs, milk-"

At which point I interrupt to ask what size eggs she needs (i.e. AA etc.) and she responds "It doesn't matter just make sure they're large - oh and cage free"

My dad immediately came back, "Cage-fee? What are you worried about - that the cake will get away?"

My dad immediately does his troll grin and my mother looks at him with a years practiced look of "how did you ever trick me into marrying you"

Naturally this was followed by my nine year old sisters falling apart into giggles, and eventually me too. My mother looks at us like she's thinking to herself "They must have switched all three of my babies at the hospital" before looking up at the ceiling and saying, "I guess I'll write a list..."