How is your life like a test?

The answers you like are always wrong.

How do you know you’re getting old?

Your bladder thinks your there before you are.

Riddle That Answers Itself

How do you know you’re getting old?
I said!
How do you know you’re getting old!
Read my lips!
HOW do you know you’re getting old!
Here let me write it down for you!
Oh fine go get your glasses!
How close do you have hold that paper anyway?
No, I’m not talking about pudding!
Potatoes!… What?!
NO, I don’t need to borrow your ointment!

Future Nostalgia

I feel sorry for young people and their future nostalgia.

Here’s an example:
I was driving down the road listening to my favorite rap mp3 of “Hit and Run Safari” when I became nostalgic for a burger from an oldies restaurant I went to as a youngun. I had my usual order, a happy meal; toy included, not made in china!? Come on. Lame! The Chinese made all the good stuff. When it came to making plastic novelties, from movies they have probably never heard of, to sell to the western part of the world; those people rocked!
Man, what I’d give to still be able to text, now they have those stink in’ brain implants. Now they hear exactly what you’re thinking straight from your head. If it weren’t for those I’d still have a wife.

Wanna see my blurry tattoo? It’s not about what it was; it’s about where it was.

Surprisinglyer

You might find it surprising, but girls without diaries or journals find that bathroom stall doors work just as well.

I Have More

Mr. ZZ: “I have more flashes of inspiration then you do.”

Daughter ZZ: “No, I encompass extra flashes of insight at the moment then you do.”

Mr. ZZ: “Thumbs down, I take in further flashes of impending brainwaves by the second then you do.”

Daughter ZZ: “Alright you win.”

Test

The Middle East is
(A) A fun place to eat pork.
(B) A great place to check out the ladies.
(C) A super place to wave the American flag.
(D) A cobweb of ancestral grudges.

More Fine Art

Hobby

My wife said, “You need a hobby, all you do is sit in front of that computer all day!” “So what do you think I should do?” “I don’t know, use that brain of yours.”

I gave it all the thought four seconds would allow and said, “How about I build something with my hands like a pagan shrine in our backyard.”
Half listening to what I said she turned to do the dishes, “Whatever just don’t make a big mess.” “Okay Dear.”

So that’s when I started to build my R scale version of Stonehenge. With some minor alterations to my wheelbarrow to carry the thirty-two metric ton monoliths I was on my way.

My fingers being so strong from all the typing I do made the moving of these massive stones an easy job.

I was just about to sacrifice the neighbor’s dog to purify the structure when my wife said, “Dinners on!” So I let him go and went to eat.

While I was eating my dessert I heard an unholy din from the backyard only to find that my daughter mistook them for real big dominos and had watched them fall in a chain reaction.

Sadly I gave up on my new found paganism and went back to working on my blog.