Humor writing published daily. Featured: Best of Year | Editors’ Picks | People’s Favorites | Satire | Guides | Observations | Stories
Let's start by setting some intentions. I'll go first. My intention is to be present--in this parking space.
I maybe should have drawn a line on bacteria, viruses, and diseases, but God wasn’t in a very conciliatory mood at the time.
Let me know if "Indulgence preachers hate him!" works for you as a tagline.
We will have an authentic Old Crone sitting in the back of your wedding venue, looking out of place and muttering curses under her breath.
I was the one who asked for it, and I had a lot of success at first: one, two, three! Three brides! Ah, ah, ah!
At first, I thought, maybe it’s because he’s been streaming a lot of Tame Impala lately and there’s some kind of strange Australia connection there.
“James, how did it get to this point?” I don’t know. I noticed some mold a while back, but nothing more aggressive than the average moist home.
Any day can be your last and your family knows that. Next time your kids think of talking back to you, they'll picture you not being here anymore.
You have six-pack abs? I have six-dollar abs. It’s six dollar bills.
The Gig options are: package deliverer, meal deliverer, startup online pharmacy deliverer, driver, and graphic designer (Masters’ Degree preferred).
Dad: The town’s richest family used to own that. Now, everyone goes to Wally-Mart... Me: You have like, 17 pants from Walmart.
We, the authors (your neighborhood walking group), are hopeful that an analysis of our findings will lead you to finally shut the fuck up about this.