My jokes
Roses are red, my blood is too. I see a lot when I lost you.
1st graders: Ay yo girl, I think you’re beautiful, let’s get married!!
2nd graders: Uhh, don’t tell my mom that we’re dating!! She won’t let me date! Let’s keep this a seeeeecret heeheehee.
3rd graders: Uh, my teacher told me to stay after school because I wrote a poem about you and I’m 9 years old, we have to break up, sweetie.
4th graders: Hey, I think you’re cute!! Wanna date? I don’t think my girlfriend will mind.......
5th graders (they start wearing makeup): Ay girl, your eyelashes are pretty, I like you now, wanna date? Here’s my numberrrrrr.
6th graders: Heyyyyy, I gotta tell you a secret, I got a crush on you!! Don’t tell anyone!! Byeee, ooh, I’ll text you later!
7th graders: We need to make Peyton jealous because she broke up with you!! Wanna date? I mean, you’re not hot, but still, great personalityyyyy, alright, bye now.
8th graders: Hi sweetheart, I got STARRRBUCKKKSSS
Me: UGLY AF AND LITERALLY NO BOYFRIEND.....
You wanna know what's the difference between a girl and a refrigerator? "A refrigerator doesn't moan when I put my meat in it."
Follow me on Instagram @v2good.at.fortnite and @v2good.at.edits for a surprise.
Btw, you have to like all my posts :)
Roses are red, violets are violet.
My grandad died in 9/11. He was a good pilot.
My new leaf blower doesn't work. It sucks.
Holy fucking shit, Addison, watersharky, Gwen, and all of you other cringelords, I swear to God if I hear one more thing about "please be kind, no bullying on the internet," I will actually shoot my local school.
You may not know, since you are only 8 years old or whatever, but the world is not kind. It’s full of sick people out to beat others, and the only way to stay safe is to beat them. So even if you think you are spreading kindness, it’s just gonna make you a target. So just stfu and keep your "please be kind" messages to yourselves.
I told Siri about my dog, and she told me if she could tell me a joke to cheer me up, and I said okay.
She asked me, "Knock knock." I said, "Who is there?" She said, "Not your dog."
A woman is on the edge of a bridge, about to commit suicide, when a strange man comes up to her.
"Tell me, why do you wish to end your life?" he asks in a booming but gentle voice.
"My children died last year in a car crash, I'm battling depression, my husband left me, and I lost my job," she sobs. "I don't wish to live anymore."
The man mulls this over, and proclaims, "I will solve all your problems, as I am a wizard and possess unfathomable abilities. However, you must grant me a blowjob first."
The delighted woman readily agrees, takes him below the bridge, and fulfills his request. After they're done, he asks, "How old are you?"
"37," she replies, wiping her mouth.
"You're 37 and you still believe in wizards?"
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...
Guys, can we change pride month to another month, please? My birthday is in June, and I'm not gay, and my friends keep making fun of me. I think we should change it to March because my brother's birthday is in March, and that'd be funny.
My pencil sharpener broke, so now my pencil is pointless.
The other day at school we had to write down our hero and what we would do if they walked into our house. I got off easy because my hero is Stephen Hawking.
Dam, my balls itch like hell.
As an honest Penaldo fan, I have to admit he is a penalty merchant. He can only score against farmer teams like Spezia. He never shows up against great teams like Barcelona.
I've come to realize my hero Penaldo will never be better than Messi. My idol Penaldo is sadly finished.
My (at the time) boyfriend told our chemistry teacher that blood is corrosive to steel.
Anyways, my sharpener isn’t working because the blade has been too badly damaged from something else…
My math teacher asked me what a liked term was. I told her I couldn't say, never experienced it.
There is a party in my mouth, and your dick is invited.
I’m here to collect my bounty, what’s your bounty? Your pants.
Why did your parents abandon you?
Because the first thing you dad said to be was; "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WIFE."