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The zoo basically had two modes:
1. Boring sleeping animals.
2. Hardcore porn.
Cop: Do you know why I pulled you over?
Me: You love me?
Me: Is it because I'm driving a lawnmower?
Me: *floors it*
My blood test came back "cheese".
[How to flirt]
Step 1: Stare
Step 2: Stare
Step 3: Stare
Step 4: Stare
Step 5: Stare
Step 6: Stare
Step 7: Stare
Step 8: Stare
Runner's high is a myth, just like gluten allergies and happiness.
*wraps cat in plastic wrap*
*pokes out nose holes*
No Ebola for you, kitty.
*Changes mom's ringtone to Me So Horny*
*calls her at church*
My anaconda don't want buns because he's off carbs, son.
"Are you a cop?"
"Because you have to tell me if you are."
I'm NOT a cop.
"Ok... I'll have one Happy Meal please."
Me: Is this about the long lunches I took...
HR: It's about the wig and the 4 hours of Beyonce choreography in front of an oscillating fan.
Who decided to call them stepfathers instead of faux pas?
Me: Did it hurt?
Satan: Did what hurt?
Me: When you fell from heaven.
Satan: *rolls eyes*
There's one stick figure on the back window of my car, crying in the shower.
All I really want out of life is to see someone get struck by lightning while using a selfie stick.
A burrito is diarrhea in its larval stage.
Neat! The Google Earth image of Detroit has a chalk outline drawn around it.
I hate when something seems like a good idea while you're drunk, but then in the morning you have a houseful of cats with glittery mohawks.
I never drink alone. That would be pathetic.
Before $300 smartwatches and fitness trackers, we used something cheaper called "sweating" to let us know if we were getting a good workout.
I like romantic dinners, walks on the beach, and acid wash mom jeans.
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