Routines

Eight-Year-Old: I can’t do my dance routines when he’s holding my legs.

Hot Dance

Friend [to her son, eating a hot brownie]: Okay, good. Now do the hot dance.

Gone

Friend: Gone With the Wind is like shopping in the black neighborhood and finding nothing I like.

Shooting

Wife: So what you want me to do is to go to karate, and when Mister Mike asks if you’ve been good, to tell him, “No, because he’s been shooting me full of arrows at dinner all week”?
Five-Year-Old: No?

Figure

Five-Year-Old: I think it would be good to figure out who God is.

Disarrayed

Me: When you try to kick me, you forfeit the right to have your pants not disarrayed.

The Hustler

Wife: Pro tip: When you’re drunk and limping, don’t go home with a pool shark and get him to have sex with you.

Priest

Wife: Just make sure it’s clear that we’ve never actually seen a priest fucking.

Reveal

Wife: Ask anyone who’s had an affair. The best way to reveal it is not to say, “Hey, do you remember that time we saw that priest fucking?”

Nom

Wife: Have I taken any good pictures of me lately?
Me: Nnn… um…
Wife: “Nom”?
Me: I said, “Um.”
Wife: No, you said, “Nom.”
Me: Nom… um…
…
Can I put that on the blog?
Wife: Only if you don’t eat me.