Monday, February 23, 2015

2/23/2015 Jokes



I was a philosophy major in college and every girl I dated wondered why. 

My grandfather was a cold man: He shook my hand at my high school graduation and I got frost bite. His cards were always signed With Mild Consideration, and his cause of death was Emotional Infarction.

I dated a painter back in college. You know the type: emotional, messy, with brushes and paints strewn around. It didn’t work out. She never offered to paint me in the nude so I got drunk and told her one night how this pissed me off. She said she was a house painter and that if I paid any attention to her, I would know that. What am I a detective? I don’t go snooping around people’s jobs all day and listen to them talk about their work. And besides, how is a den different from my beer belly?

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