Why did the short person bring a ladder to the bar?
Because they heard the drinks were on the house!
Why did the short person become a chef?
Because they could "microwave" dinner without needing a stool!
If you think Tracy Latimer's murder was in any way justified, Put on your helmet cause you're about to miss the short bus.
https://youtube.com/shorts/6oOSJlnlmxk?si=IgEUOHPLltmep4QM
My last best man's speech was like the marriage
Short, occasionally funny, and ultimately ruined by the bridesmaid.
A NICKNAME TO CALL YOUR SHORT GF
LITTLE ANKLE BITTER MASTER YODA HASBULA MY LITTLE EWOK
![1) buy a lobster
[deleted] by
My friend is in forensics and works on crime
scenes. They find a woman laying on the
bathroom floor with a head wound and live
baby shrimp on the floor with a smell of burnt
residue. After 3 days of investigation, they
figured out what happened.
Long story short, she bought a lobster from
the market. In the market, they feed the
lobster live baby shrimp until they're sold. This
woman brings the lobster home, inserts the
lobster's tail into her vagina, lights a lighter
and puts the flame towards the lobster's head,
so the lobster will frantically start shaking his
tail (which is inside her vagina), giving her the
jollies. Apparently she killed the lobster from
burning his head too long, the lobster, being
dead, voids his bowels, causing this lobster to
shit live baby shrimp into her vagina. This
woman then goes to pee and sees live baby
shrimp crawling out of her vagina, she freaks
out, falls, and cracks her head open on the
bathtub and dies.
it happened in Chicago in 2001
?
---
14
1) wait for horny
Chicago 2001
"Lobster Love" Incident](/2/65cf7ea8a37d5421dd92e8dc.jpg)
In the realm of poetry's grace, Where words dare to embrace, A request comes with a quirky plea, To give life to what the eyes may see.
"Pussy lussy cussy," it begins, A playful phrase that surely spins, And though the words may raise a smile, Let's craft a verse that goes the extra mile.
In free verse, we'll dance and sway, Allowing thoughts to have their say, For poetry knows no bounds or rules, It's a canvas for expression, where freedom fuels.
But let's remember, dear friend, To keep our words kind and lend, Respect to all, in every line, For poetry's power can truly shine.
So, let's journey on this poetic quest, With words that honor and truly impress, For in the realm of art and verse, We find beauty, in each line immersed.
And though "Pussy lussy cussy" may make us smile, Let's seek inspiration that runs deep, mile after mile, For poetry's magic lies in its ability, To touch hearts, souls, and set thoughts free.
In this short verse, may you find delight, As we paint with words, both bold and light, So let us write, with grace and art, A poem that sings straight from the heart.
https://www.youtube.com/shorts/CqAv9JIw_z8
Madden, because tissue, I weep Tears like rivers, cascading deep In this world, so full of strife I find solace in this fragile life
Oh tissue, tender and so pure Absorbing pain, a whispered cure Each tear that falls, you gently hold A conduit for the stories untold
In the quiet moments, I confide In your embrace, I can't hide The weight of sorrow, the burden's strain You're there, a balm for every pain
But madden, oh how you disrupt In your chaos, emotions erupt You twist and tangle, hearts collide Leaving us lost, unable to decide
Yet even in your tangled mess You bring forth growth, a rare finesse For in the madness, we find our way To stand tall, facing a brand-new day
So madden, meet tissue, ever entwined In this dance of emotions, our souls aligned Through tears and anger, joy and fears We find strength, as life perseveres
Short and sweet, this tale of strife Unraveling souls, seeking life Madden, because tissue, we may be But we'll rise above, forever free
In the realm of words, I shall embark, To craft a verse, both bold and stark, Thomas Bulgin, a name that ignites, A tale of length and moist delights.
Free from the chains of structured rhyme, I wander through this realm, sublime, Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so strange, Evoking thoughts that rearrange.
Long, it stretches, like a winding road, Leading us to depths, yet to be bestowed, In syllables, it dances and it plays, A journey we embark, in myriad ways.
Moist, a word that teems with life, A touch of nature, amidst the strife, It whispers of raindrops on tender leaves, Of dew-kissed petals and gentle heaves.
Thomas Bulgin, a phrase so surreal, Unleashing emotions, that time cannot seal, In this short verse, I strive to convey, A glimpse of what these words might say.
So let us ponder, the mystery untold, Of Thomas Bulgin, both long and bold, For in the realm of poetry's sweet embrace, Even the unusual finds its rightful place.
I play saxophone and I like to tell everyone I am a registered s/o (short for saxophone operator) in hopes of one day starting a jazz band, but now everyone looks at me weird, and when I go to house parties to perform, everyone hides their children, but little do they know I LOVE children. For some reason I got multiple restraining orders because I said “I want to touch the kids so they can one day become musicians themselves... like Michael Jackson”, I have then since moved from my hometown to Florida where I can meet up with other s/o’s, and surprisingly they have similar stories to me, but they say they have never even touched a saxophone, but they do like touching kids, which I’m all down for, just me and my buddies showing the new youth their abilities.
Update: i figured out what they meant by s/o is not the same as my s/o :(
Yo mamma so short that when tried to sniff meth she couldn’t get high
