Kid: Dad, are we pyromaniacs?
Dad: Yes, we arson.
I think that for Halloween I’ll dress as a candy bar with a sign that says “Eat Me,” then visit Overeaters and Sex Addicts support groups and see who cries more.
Touch my junk? If you give me twenty dollars you can haul it away!
People label me as a narcissist because I go to the gym and tanning salon every day, but mark my words: They’ll be jealous when we’re all stranded on an isolated mountaintop and leathery-and-tough-meated Brad is viewed as the last one anyone would pick for eating.
When I told my contractor that I didn’t want any carpeted steps, he just gave me a blank stair.
The other day, a homeless man asked me for a dollar.
I told him that I only carry big bills. He asked me for one of those, so I gave him my electric bill.
My wife claims I’m callous and unsupportive. Apparently she missed the chapter in “Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus” where the Martian phrase “I’m ready to listen” translates roughly, to, “What the fuck crawled up your butt?”
What’s the hardest part of being an organ donor?
Removing it from the church.
The great thing about being bisexual is that you can get revenge on a woman who turns you down by telling her you were only hitting on her for a shot at blowing her nearby friend.
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