I hate these double standards.
if you burn a body at a crematorium you’re "doing a good job" if you do it at home you’re “destroying evidence”
Today in math class we had to do an activity where we had to flip coins. The teacher said that we had to flip some coins, remove all of the heads, count them, and put the rest of the coins back in the cup and repeat until we had no coins left. I’m not sure what we were supposed to get out of that activity, but I got 15 dead bodies.
If I was an object in this world I’d be a glass! Because if you leave me when I’m too close to the edge I will likely shatter and break.
If I was a pizza topping I would be pineapple! Because everybody doubts me.
I’m a star! Because one of these days I’m going to crash and burn…
If I could choose what creature I come back as after I die I’d be a panda, because people would give a shit if I went extinct.
I’m like the sun; I’m painful to look at.
If I was a food I would be chopped liver because nobody likes me.
I’m like an eggshell… broken and empty.
If I was a mythical creature I’d be a unicorn! Because nobody believes in me.
I’m like a flashlight with old batteries inside because my inner light died a long time ago.
My soul is a raisin because it’s dried up shriveled, and not everyone likes it.
I’m like the moon because you only get to see one side of me.
I’m like the moon because as the month progresses my life becomes covered more and more by darkness.
I’m like an Ex streamly powerful fan! Because I push everyone away.
I’m like a disposable camera! People use me once and then just throw me away.
I’m like a shity book cover… because people think they have the right to judge and label me before they read my pages.
My brain and body is essentially a really old married couple that can’t afford to go through with the divorce and now they are stuck in a toxic relationship they are desperate to escape but the more they try the more they sink into the quicksand that is my depression and anxiety
Help me…
3 people explored the jungles, one was was France, one from Britain, and the other from America. While exploring, they were captured by the tribe living there. The tribesmen told the three “You three have invaded our territory, so we must kill you and use your bodies to create canoes. However we aren’t that heartless so we’ll let you choose your deaths.” So the French guy asked for a gun, pointed to his head and said “Viva la France” and shot himself. The Britain guy requested for poison and said “For the queen” and drank the poison. Lastly the American asked for a spoon, the tribesmen were confused but still gave him the spoon. When the American got the spoon, he started stabbing himself “Try make a canoe out of this one!”
Jeff asks, "Did you hear about the guy they call the flash?" Bob responds, "No, I haven’t. Do they call him that because he runs fast?" Jeff replies, “Nah, they call him that because he doesn’t wear pants.”
There was an air crash of a Boeing 737 - 800 which can carry around 300 passengers…
It crashed in a cemetery
They recovered 500 bodies
I hate double standards if you burn a body at a crematorium you’re doing a good job if you burn a body t home you’re destroying evidence.
Man: "Is your body from Mcdonalds?" Woman: "Why, because your loving it?" Man: “No, because its fat and greasy.”
:D
I was cooking eggs the other day. It was very EGGxiting, all though, I was EGGxaggerating, but, if you think that wasn’t funny to you, then your hard boiled, that’s all for today YOLKS, so I said before several cats starting fighting, that sht was a CATastrophe, these kittens were all like “You’ve gotta be KITTEN me.” Mean while, in the ocean, they just waved, SEA what I did there? You SHORE you didn’t? Oh, alright, that’s okay bud- I guess these ocean puns are too DEEP for you. No? Okay- but, you know why the skeleton was lonely, eh? Oh, cause he had NO BODY. Why didn’t the skeleton ask the girl out? He didn’t have the guts. What did the skeleton do to his gf? He BNED her. No? Alright. Those didn’t make you laugh? Maybe I should hit your funny bone.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
Because the chicken had 4 chicks and a cheating hen who all sucked out all his money he got from his extremely boring job, and he finally got some peace for himself and was going to the local bar, which was on the other side of the road. He walked in the door, wings sagging, feathers catching on his claws. The bartender eyes him as he sits on a bar stool. “Chuck, how ya doin’? The missus doin’ good?” "Just give me the hardest stuff you got. I’m done." This caught the bartender by surprise. “Chuck, come on, don’t be sayin’ that. Just look to the future and you’ll be fine.” “What future?” Chuck replied in a huff. “My wife and chicks are so goddamn pestering sometimes, you know? But if I leave, they’ll all suffer, and I don’t want that either. Oh, God, Phil, I don’t know what to do.” “You know, you’ve got a good heart for a rooster your age,” Phil answered. "We need that in these parts. I’m tellin’ ya, there will be more than what’s happenin’ right now, ya know, life’s got all its gears turning for ya, and there’s just a bit slow right now. The gears haven’t been oiled in a while, but who’s the only one who can fix that?" Chuck knew the answer. "Me." Phil returned with his drink. "McClucken’s Whiskey, on the house." Chuck glanced at his glass. He held it up to the light. His face reflected in an aura around it, neither looking forward to the light and not backward, either. “No thanks, Phil,” Chuck sighed, "But thanks anyways." He went to get up out of his chair. Phil called as he walked out the door, "Just remember to oil the gears every now and then, eh?" Chuck’s comb flapped in a cool breeze brought in by the season. A bench was nearby, staring across to the other side. And he just sat there, sat there thinking. Cars blurred to a colorfully colorless nothingness as he thought in silence. He could see an open window in his mind, full of chickens: a sassy hen, two identical sportish chick; another, older than the two, and body bristling with blue comb-dye and the latest thing he watched online fresh on his Chickstagram page; finally, the first of the bunch, shy, bookish, with a secretly courageous soul. They all looked… worried, worried for the rooster who guided them, helped them grow, supported them… and all looking out of the window back at him. A single tear welled in Chuck’s eye. The chicken walked back across the road to his family, to his friends, and to the life he was content with.
A Blonde walks into a hospital claiming that everywhere she touches hurts. So she goes into the examination room and the doctor says “Okay I’d like you to point to wherever it hurts”. So the Blonde pokes her cheek and says “Here. Ow.” She then pokes her arm and says “Here. Ow.” She then repeats this with different parts of her body until the doctor finally says that she should stop. The doctor say “I know what’s happened to you.” “What’s happened to me??” The Blonde says, concerned. The doctor simply replies, “You have a broken finger.”