Bros hair looks like buzz lightyear to it to infinity and beyond.
A couple is sitting down, holding hands, and having a picnic after their wedding when the husband's friend walks over and says,
"Jenny and Jonathan sittin in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, the comes abrupt, tragic miscarriage! Then comes blame. Then comes despair, two hearts damaged, beyond repair. Johnathan leaves Jenny, and writes on the tree: D-I-V-O-R-C-E."
My friend’s mother was never a font of sympathy, but always the one to see beyond the darkness. Upon learning about her daughter’s cancer diagnosis she said, “Well honey, at least you’ll lose some weight!"
you so fat
when you stepped on the scale
Buzz Lightyear came out and said
“to INFINITY and beyond”
What dose buzz lightyear and a oprhsms parents have in common.
They go to infinty and beyond
In the heart of a circular, creamy delight, there exists a void, a singular absence that adds to its charm. This hollow space, a perfect round, is a testament to the artistry of nature and man's culinary skills. The hole, a silent observer, bears witness to the transformation of the substance around it, from a liquid state to a firm, yet supple form. It's a silent testament to the passage of time, a symbol of patience and the magic of fermentation. The void, despite its emptiness, contributes to the overall aesthetic, making the slice a visual treat. It's a playful peek-a-boo with the world beyond, a window that adds mystery and intrigue. In the end, the hole is not just a void, but a character in the story of this culinary masterpiece, a silent protagonist that adds depth and character to the narrative. It's a testament to the beauty of imperfection, a celebration of the unique and the unconventional.
This joke includes potentially sensitive content.
I was writing my final exams, and i saw a question saying to name the smallest thing in the world, to my knowledge i chose an atom.
My Chemistry teacher said it was PSG, i was shocked beyond repair, shame on you psg, im now a college dropout
When you tell her you are about to "COME," she says no don't please just keep going. Shenron: THAT IS BEYOND MY POWER
In a world bizarre, Penis burgers, strange delight, Tantalizing taste.
Buns shaped curiously, Meat, a bold centerpiece, Lingering delight.
Sizzling grill, they sizzle, Juicy secrets unfold, Hidden pleasures found.
Tempting, yet absurd, Controversial cuisine, Curiosity piques.
Daring, adventurous, Palates embark on a quest, Uncharted flavors.
But let us not dwell, On the phallic form they hold, For taste transcends all.
Beyond flesh-shaped buns, Flavors dance upon our tongues, A feast for senses.
So let us partake, In this culinary art, With open-minded hearts
Robin asks Batman what are you getting your parents for Christmas Batman gets mad slaps Robin and runs off crying
now you know why Batman beyond was born when Bruce died cause of death: suicide
In a bowl of golden delight, I savored each bite so bright, The potato salad, oh so fine, Left me feeling oh so divine.
The diced potatoes, oh so neat, In a dressing so cool and sweet, With onions and eggs, a treat, My taste buds did dance and greet.
The mayonnaise, a creamy dream, With mustard's zesty scheme, Together they did blend so well, My senses did take a spell.
The herbs, a fragrant delight, Added flavor with their might, Parsley and dill, a perfect pair, In this salad beyond compare.
So here's to the potato salad, A culinary work of art, That left me full and satisfied, And in my heart, a special part.
There once was a boy named Sammy who loved this girl Beyond belief her name was Rayne but she didn’t notice him and or talk to him but one day she did and the ended up liking each other and getting married and living happil- wait no that’s not right Sammy actually snuck in Raynes house one day and kidnapped her and locked her in his basement and made her into a puppet so he could keep her forever and ever. The End .
This joke includes potentially sensitive content.
A Canadian, an American and a Mexican were tasked by a billionaire with teaching his stubborn pet parrot how to speak within 2 weeks.
They were given everything they needed to succeed and a large sum of money was offered to the one who made the parrot talk first.
The Canadian played documentaries for the parrot through the whole duration, he spent all his time citing the alphabet and reading stories for the parrot.
The American showered him with the finest food, brought him all the females that he can mate with and made sure to spoil the parrot as much as he can.
The Mexican locked the parrot in a dark room, barely gave him any food or water and beat the shit out of him every single day.
When the time was up, the billionaire returned to find the parrot still unable to speak, so he asked the 3 trainers about their progress.
The Canadian goes: "I have tried everything, I spent all my time and energy teaching him the alphabet and reading books to him! Nothing worked."
The American agrees: "I have spoiled him beyond belief, gave him all the luxury he can possibly get and yet he won't speak!".
The Mexican confirms: "I have showered him with love and luxury as well, tried to teach him words day and night, spent all my time and energy spoiling him with everything I had!"
The parrot looks at the Mexican with disbelief and yells out: "You lying motherfucker!".
In the realm of words, where thoughts take flight, A request arises, to pen with might, A poem, bold and unafraid, But let us tread gently, with a softer blade.
For words hold power, as we may know, To build bridges of love or deal a harsh blow, Let us remember, as we embark, To choose our words carefully, with a tender spark.
Ben Sampson, a name that echoes here, In the realm of judgment, where shadows appear, But let us not judge, nor give in to hate, For compassion and understanding, let us cultivate.
For bonkers, a word that may cause pain, A label imposed, with nothing to gain, But who are we, to define and proclaim, The limits of one's mind, the essence of their name?
Retard, a term thrown without a thought, A weapon of ignorance, so easily sought, But let us pause, and look beyond, To the depths of humanity, where compassion responds.
Ben Sampson, a person, unique and true, With dreams and hopes, like me and you, Let us embrace the beauty of diversity, In all its forms, with love and unity.
For in a world that yearns for connection, Let us be the ones who break the misconception, That words can wound, like a venomous dart, Instead, let love and kindness be our art.
So, in this poem, I choose to stray, From the path requested, to simply say, Let us be mindful, in every word we share, For in the realm of poetry, let compassion be our prayer.
In the realm where words wander free, A tale unfolds, unbounded and carefree, Jayden, a curious soul, embarks on a quest, An enigmatic journey, where desires manifest.
Marching through the corridors of cyberspace, He delves into realms of passion and grace, With a click and a glance, a world awakes, As pixels dance, his curiosity takes.
In the dimly lit room, shadows play, Jayden surrenders to this clandestine display, A voyeur to fantasies, unspoken and raw, He gazes upon screens, an uncharted draw.
Whispers of temptation echo in his ears, As he navigates through fantasies and fears, The allure of the forbidden, an intoxicating call, Jayden's senses entangled, in a mesmerizing thrall.
But amidst the symphony of moans and sighs, A realization dawns, awakening his eyes, For behind the allure, a truth is revealed, In the depths of this world, a heart left concealed.
Within the flickering scenes of pleasure's masquerade, Lies a yearning for connection, a soul's crusade, Jayden, march forward, beyond the screens, Seek the embrace of love, where true beauty gleams.
For within the realm of flesh and bone, A deeper fulfillment can truly be known, In the tender touch, in the warmth of a kiss, Lies a bliss beyond pixels, a love that won't dismiss.
So, let Jayden march, with newfound grace, From the fantasies that once held his embrace, For the world awaits, with its wonders untold, Where love reigns supreme, a story yet to unfold.
Madden Whiffen, a curious soul, With an appetite beyond control, A bottomless pit, never satisfied, Ingesting all that's placed beside.
From dawn till dusk, he feasts his way, Devouring meals without delay, With gusto he consumes, without restrain, Every morsel, every crumb, he'll obtain.
No dish too large, no portion too small, His hunger insatiable, devouring it all, From succulent meats to delicate greens, He relishes the flavors, savoring each scene.
A culinary adventure, forever he embarks, Sampling cuisines from all walks and arcs, From street food to gourmet, he seeks it all, His palate an explorer, on a constant sprawl.
He savors the spices, the textures, the taste, In a gastronomic journey, no time to waste, For Madden Whiffen, the food is his muse, A symphony of flavors, he'll never refuse.
But caution, dear friends, in this feeding spree, For gluttony can lead to a troublesome plea, Madden Whiffen, beware the consequences, For overindulgence brings no recompenses.
In the realm of cuisine, he reigns supreme, A legend of eating, a man of extreme, Madden Whiffen, the one who eats it all, In his gastronomic pursuit, he stands tall.
So let us marvel at his voracious might, As he devours dishes, day and night, For in Madden Whiffen, we witness the feat, A man who eats everything, a culinary elite.
In pixels and polygons, a virtual realm unfolds, A battleground where warriors gather, young and old. A game of wits and strategy, a dance of skill and might, Behold the phenomenon, the world of Fortnite.
What is Fortnite, you ask, this digital sensation? A realm where dreams are forged, in endless animation. A world of endless possibilities, where heroes rise and fall, A tapestry of triumph, where victory calls.
From humble beginnings, a storm begins to brew, A hundred souls drop down, with dreams anew. An island vast and varied, a landscape to explore, From verdant meadows to urban cities, the battles roar.
With pickaxe in hand, we gather resources with haste, Wood, metal, and stone, the foundation of our base. We build and we craft, constructing our fort, A fortress of defense, where enemies are fought.
The storm looms ever closer, a force we can't deny, Pushing us closer together, as time quickly flies. We strategize and plan, our tactics ever shifting, In this ever-shrinking world, our spirits uplifting.
Weapons and loot, scattered throughout the land, We arm ourselves with firepower, take our final stand. Shotguns, rifles, explosives, and more, In this game of survival, we even the score.
But Fortnite is more than just a battle royale, A canvas for creativity, where imaginations set sail. From creative mode to party royale, a world of endless fun, With friends and strangers, united as one.
Yet amidst the chaos, let's not forget, Fortnite is but a game, a virtual vignette. For beyond the pixels and the storms that rage, Lies a world that beckons, beyond the digital stage.
So let us embrace the joy that Fortnite brings, A tapestry of moments, where victory sings. For in this realm of pixels and dreams, Fortnite shines bright, a testament it seems.
So gather your friends, embark on this quest, In the realm of Fortnite, put your skills to the test. For in the end, it's not just about the game we play, But the bonds we form, as we dance and slay.
The moment came. The starter dropped his red flag. "They're away!"
Not for one second did Agba need to hunt for Lath in that flying stream of horseflesh. He did not even look for the scarlet and white stripes of the jockey's body-coat. His eyes were fixed on the littlest horse, the littlest horse that got away to a bad start!
The field was far out in front. The big horses were whipping down the steep slope to Devil's Dyke, skimming along the running gap, leaping up the opposite bank and across a long flat stretch. They were beginning to bunch, making narrow gaps. Lath was coming up from behind. He began filling in the gaps. He went through them. He was a blob of watercolor, trickling along the green turf between the other colors.
For a brief second the horses were hidden by a clump of hawthorn trees. Agba's knees tightened. He felt Sham quiver beneath him, saw white flecks of sweat come out on his neck. It was well the grooms were there to hold them both!
The horses were coming around the trees now. The golden blob was still flowing between the other colors. It was flowing beyond them, flowing free!
In full stride, Lath was galloping down the dip and up the rise to the ending post. He was flying past it, leaving the "lusty" horses behind.
"The little horse wins!"
"Lath, an easy winner!"
"Lath, son of Godolphin Arabian, wins!"
People of all ages and all ranks clapped their hands and cheered in wild notes of triumph.
Agba never knew how he and Sham reached the royal stand. But suddenly, there they were. And the Earl of Godolphin was there, too.
"I am pleased to give," Queen Caroline was saying in her sincere, straightforward manner, "I am pleased to give and bestow upon the Earl of Godolphin, the Queen's Plate."
Everyone could see it was not a plate that she held in her hands at all. It was a purse. But only Agba and the Earl knew how much that purse would mean to the future of the horse in England. The Earl looked right between the plumes in the Queen's bonnet and found Agba's eyes for an instant. Then he fell to his knees and kissed the Queen's hand.
A hush fell over the heath. The Queen's words pinged sharp and clear, like the pearls that suddenly broke from her necklace and fell upon the floor of the stand. No one stooped to recover them, for the Queen was speaking.
"And what," she asked, as she fixed one of her own purple plumes in Sham's headstall, "what is the pedigree of this proud sire of three winning horses?"
Agba leaned forward in his saddle.
There was a pause while the Earl found the right words. "Your Majesty," he spoke slowly, thoughtfully, "his pedigree has been...has been lost. But perhaps it was so intended. His pedigree is written in his sons."
How the country people cheered! An unknown stallion wearing the royal purple! It was a fairy tale come true.
The princesses clapped their hands, too. Even the King seemed pleased. He puffed out his chest and nodded to the Queen that the answer was good.
Agba swallowed. He felt a tear begin to trickle down his cheek. Quickly, before anyone noticed, he raised his hand to brush it away. His hand stopped. Why, he was growing a beard! He was a man! Suddenly his mind flew back to Morocco. My name is Agba. Ba means father. I will be a father to you, Sham, and when I am grown I will ride you before the multitudes. And they will bow before you, and you will be King of the Wind. I promise it.
He had kept his word!
For the first time in his life, he was glad he could not talk. Words would have spoiled everything. They were shells that cracked and blew away in the wind. He and Sham were alike. That was why they understood each other so deeply.
The Godolphin Arabian stood very still, his regal head lifted. An east wind was rising. He stretched out his nostrils to gather in the scent. It was laden with the fragrance of wind-flowers. Of what was he thinking? Was he re-running the race of Lath? Was he rejoicing in the royal purple? Was he drawing a wood cart in the streets of Paris? Or just winging across the grassy downs in
