Why don’t dinosaurs make good pets?
Because they’re dead.
Deadpan joke delivery styles, punchline pacing, and comedy formats for people with specific chaos preferences from Chaotic Meh — organized so the algorithm can pretend this place has adult supervision.
Why don’t dinosaurs make good pets?
Because they’re dead.
I taught my testicles to sing the blues. It kinda makes sense, as that’s the color they are most of the time.
I don’t know if “Topless Webcamming” can be considered a skill, but what the fuck, it’s going on the resume.
If I had a penis, I’d probably spend hours perfecting that “thwap” noise I’d want it to make when I hit it against my girlfriend.
Usually when I jot something down on my hand as a reminder, it’s along the lines of, “Because of the infected calluses, use Lefty this week.”
I’d imagine one of the cooler aspects of working in a crime lab is that you could tell with 99.916% accuracy what douchenozzle co-worker keeps shedding his corkscrew pubes all over the urinal.
I can never remember the trucker grammatical rule. Is it “fuck” before “shit” except after “cocksucker,” or the other way around?
I’ve always felt that the breakfast hummer was the most important blowjob of the day.
My wife can’t figure out why I love staying up late to do our taxes. What she doesn’t know is that my process involves writing “I.R.S.” on the forehead of a blow-up doll and repeatedly ramming it in the ass.