Archive for January, 2006

“Sorry, I was thinking about my mistress.”

Little boy: Dad, will you remember me tomorrow?
Dad: Of course.
Little boy: Will you remember me next week?
Dad: Yes.
Little boy: Next month?
Dad: Yup.
Little boy: Next year? Two years? Three years?
Dad. Yes, yes and yes.
Little boy: …Knock, knock.
Dad: Who’s there?
Little boy: Aw, man! You forgot me already! –1 train Overheard by: Kathleen

The Literal Opposite of “#1 Dad”

Guy #1: Bitches are all emotional, guys use their head. That is why I call emotional guys “bitches.”
Guy #2: Word.
Guy #1: But bitches are crazy, they will call the cops on you now. They will slap themselves in the face and when the cops show up they will point at you.
Guy #2: Fo’ sho’.
Guy #1: That is why I ain’t got no kids. I don’t want a bunch of my seed running around and people calling me a scumbag because I don’t take care of my kids. Bitch will turn on you for that child support.
Guys #2: I know my girl ain’t gonna be doing that because she know I’m only making minimum wage. –1 train

The Writers Switched From Funny to Educational

Tween girl #1: I’m gonna call that number 1-800-DIVORCE. I want to divorce my parents.
Tween boy: You can’t divorce your parents, stupid. Can you marry your parents? No!
Tween girl #1: Technically, technically you can but that’s just sick.
Tween girl #2: You’re not really divorcing your parents. It’s more like they giving up they rights.
Tween girl #1: Look, I call it divorcing your parents because that’s what they called it on The Simpsons so that’s why I say it. –Q train

The Opposition to the Burger Crown Meets

Indian mom: Eat your chicken.
Drunk Irishman: Ach, what nice bebbies. I have a child too.
Indian mom: That’s nice.
Drunk Irishman: Just the one, though. The doctor told me wife, that’s it. No more chidren for you.
Indian mom: I see.
Little girl: Grandma, who is that man?
Indian mom: I’m your mother, not your grandmother.
Drunk Irishman: Her boss made her lift a 500 pound piano all by her self. A tiny woman! A 500 pound piano!
Indian mom: I see.
Drunk Irishman: So no more children. And me one of nine, you know. Including the one deadborn one. –Wendy’s, Astoria Overheard by: Loretta P.