The Things We Carry Puns

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

more like dad revelations. I was pulling up carpet and padding Sunday because we adopted two very rude Husky puppies last year that like to urinate in the house. As I was working, I was listening to Parliment Funkadelic on Pandora and I came to the realization that I was listening to P-Funk as I was dealing with pee funk.
Another thing that happened the same day was I took an opened bag of bird feed out of the closet to pull the carpet up and when I looked at it a bit later, I saw beetles all over the bag and crawling on the counter where I had set it. Probably 40 of the little suckers. I had to text my wife about that one. "Honey, I've got bad news. Our bag of bird feed has been infested with beetles. Yes, our bird feed has been infested with... more bird feed."
Anyway, just thought I would share. Carry on with the groaners.

Mine was about 20 years ago, I was 17 at the time and going to my gf’s sisters house for dinner with her family. We brought some things to help with dinner. As we’re walking up to the house carrying the cookware, her dad looks back and says, “hey, now that you’re walking the wok, can you talk the talk?”. Not sure why but I’ll never forget that. Still makes me chuckle to this day. What’s yours?

She wasn’t unusual, nor was the travel bag she carried, except for one thing. She would approach people who were sitting on the beach, glance around, then speak to them.

Generally, the people would respond negatively and she would wander off, but occasionally someone would nod and there would be a quick exchange of money for something she carried in her bag.

The couple assumed she was selling drugs and debated calling the cops, but since they didn’t know for sure they just continued to watch her.

After a couple of weeks the wife asked, “Honey, have you ever noticed that she only goes up to people with boom boxes and other electronic devices?”

He hadn’t and said so. Then she said, “Tomorrow I want you to get a towel and our big radio and go lie out on the beach. Then we can find out what she’s really doing.”

Well, the plan went off without a hitch, and the wife was almost hopping up and down with anticipation when she saw the girl talk to her husband and then leave. The man walked up the beach and met his wife at the road. “Well, is she selling drugs?” she asked excitedly.”

“No, she’s not.” he said, enjoying this probably more than he should have.

“Well, what is it, then?” his wife fairly shrieked.

The man grinned and said. “Her name is Sally and she’s selling batteries.”

“Batteries?” cried the wife.

“Yes,” he replied. “She sells C cells by the Seashore.”

If your onion sang hip-hop, would that be a rapscallion?

I used to be an astronaut, but I got tired of eating out of satellite dishes. I wasn't allowed to eat the Milky Way, even though I had to look at it every day. The worst thing was, I never got to visit The Space Bar. Then, when I was visiting the dark side of the moon, I was bitten by a parasite. Now, you might think it's crazy, but the doctor who removed it called it a lunar-tick.

If "womb" is pronounced "woom" and "tomb" is pronounced "toom", shouldn't "bomb" be pronounced "boom"?

China recently tested a new steroid. It basically turns you into The Hulk. The side effect is it could turn you into a crazed zombie that tends to rip the upper extremities from people. People are saying that this could be the zombie apocalypse. In my opinion, lips have nothing to do with it. I call it ARMageddon. The only way to stay safe now is to not let anyone close enough to disarm you.

I recently was going to join the railroad union. I decided against it because it's complicated. If I received instruction on driving the locomotive, would they call it engineering, or training?

I got a sad story about a flower. I don't know who the heck she pissed off, but damn, now she's a Black-Eyed Susan.

I finally figured out what makes leaves angry. Fall. They get so mad they change color. Some are yellow. They're just afraid and run from their problems. The other ones usually just leave.

I went parachuting with my military buddies once. We landed on a department store. I told him I think we're at the wrong coordinates. He said: "Nope. We're right on Target"

I asked a psychologist if Native Americans have strong emotions. He said "Oh yeah, they're intense".

If a psychotic person thought something made sense, would that thought be psychological?

If Matt Damon were searching for a secondhand store, would he be Goodwill Hunting?

My friend is a Marksman for the military. One day, he went to the armory and asked for 3 snipers. They gave him a candy bar. It was a 3 Musketeers.

I want to be there if Dwayne Johnson ever uses a pizza stone. That way I can smell what "The Rock" is cookin'.

Christopher bought a lemon, and the car broke down. Now Christopher Walken.

Have you heard about the latest bank battle on Wall Street? Capital One and Chase got in a fight and Capital One.

You know what a pirate says to his wenches when he sees the shoreline? "LAND HO!"

A man finds a lamp in the desert and dusts it off. Poof! A genie p

My grandfather or Pa, as I called him gave my an absolute gem.

He was actually my step mother's dad and we already called my other grandfather Papa, so we called him 'Pa Ulb' - Ulb being his surname.

He was an incredible artist and would paint awesome things for us or on our bedroom walls. I remember he painted me a massive Star Wars piece on one of my walls when Episode 1 came out. I was only about about 6 at the time and remember being scared of Darth Maul. From this we used to joke around that Darth Maul would come and get me if I did anything wrong. Sort of like a police officer watching my every move, to ensure I behaved.

This carried on as a joke until he died 2 years ago, when I had done something wrong he said he'd call the police and get Maul to take me away. When he did die he had just finished an incredible painting of Darth Maul as a police officer. It was amazing! My parents could make sense of it and weren't sure if it was him that had painted it, so they flipped it over because he used to always write Pa Ulb Art and the title of the painting.

Surely enough on the back it said Pa ulb Art - Maul Cop.

Our school offers "gently used" semi-formal wear for kids who can't afford to get new things for every dance. It was originally called "my sister's closet" but then It started carrying boys' clothes too, and they wanted a name that didn't sound like a boy might be borrowing his sister's clothes for a formal dance.

"We want something catchy" a student said. "Like...my cousin's closet."

I piped in. "How about the small pox closet? There's not many things more catchy than small pox!"

Single word reaction after an exasperated groan: "no."

Whenever someone in my household asks how we're supposed to do something (carrying multiple things at once, beat a boss in a video game, clean the house before mom gets home) he always replies before anyone says anything, "very carefully."

When I was a kid, we owned a family store. My dad was the only employee, and I "helped". He would wait and wait for a customer to ask him, "Do you have an eye for this sort of thing?" so that he could whip out the rubber eye he carried around in his pocket, and go,

"Yep! Right here!"

Every year on christmas day, we all sit at the table to eat breakfast. Things will go quiet, and my dad will smirk slightly and his eyes will light up. And we know what's coming next:

"Hey guys, it's uhm... starting to feel a lot like Christmas!"

We all laugh at the terrible joke, and carry on eating breakfast. Every. Damn. year.

We went shopping and we're only supposed to pick up a few things but my dad kept putting stuff in the basket I was carrying. When we got to the register...

Me: I'll pay for my stuff, is that it? Well really you should buy it as a tip for carrying your stuff the whole time.

Him: don't bet on the horses, there's your tip.