Teens Funny Quotes

Rejection is an opportunity for your selection.

And now," Eric yelled into his mircophone, "we're going to sing a new song-one we just wrote. This one's for my girlfriend. We've been going out for three weeks, and, damn, our love is true. We're gonna be together forever, baby. This one's called 'Bang You Like a Drum.

I showed him the Post-it. “You see They’re from Lily.” “Who’s Lily?” “Some girl.” “Ooh... a girl!” “Boomer, we’re not in third grade anymore. You don’t say, ‘Ooh... a girl!’” “What? You fucking her?” “Okay, Boomer, you’re right. I liked ‘Ooh... a girl!’ much more than that. Let’s stick with ‘Ooh... a girl!

Sometimes, there aren't any good choices. Sometimes, making the right one is hard... It's funny, but when you think about it, we're all broken. That's what life does. It knocks you down and breaks you and you either get back up again, or you don't. You either do things on your terms, or you don't. You let the bad things win, or you don't." "You either let it break you, or you don't.

It's especially hard to admit that you made a mistake to your parents, because, of course, you know so much more than they do.

Oh diary, I love her, I love her, I love her so much. Jordana is the most amazing person I have ever met. I could eat her. I could drink her blood. She's the only person I would allow to be shrunk to microscopic size and explore me in a tiny submersible machine. She is wonderful and beautiful and sensitive and funny and sexy. She's too good for me, she's too good for anyone! All I could do was let her know. I said: "I love you more than words. And I am a big fan of words.

Thinking, not for the first time, that life should come with a trapdoor. Just a little exit hatch you could disappear through when you´d utterly and completely mortified yourself. Or when you had spontaneous zit eruptions. “Good book?” he asked, taking it from her and reading the subtitle, “A Guide for Good Girls Who (Sometimes) Want to Be Bad,” out loud. But life did not come with a trapdoor.

The following is a list of statements made many years ago by experts in their fields. At the time they were said they sounded intelligent. With the passing of time, they sound idiotic.

I rubbed at my temple, where the zit was gone. It still hurt a little , though, deep under the skin. I hate those zits that burrow underground. You think they've vanished, but no, they just barricade themselves right next to the bone and hurt.

I swam through the thick, smelly, greyish ocean of pressure toward nowhere.

Expired condoms are like nuclear waste: there's nothing sensible you can do with it.

teenagers are never joking. when seeking to prove a point, principals and teachers should remember that teenagers are never, ever sarcasic or ironic. if they say "I wish someone would drop a bomb on this school right now," that means they have arranged for a nuclear arsenal to be emptied onto the school and should be immediately suspended and ridiculed. if they say they were merely coming up with a joking excuse to postpone a bio test, reply that all jokes are funny, and that since dropping a bomb on a school is not funny, it is therefore not a joke.

It’s funny how life moves in a complete circle sometimes. There might be lots of bumps in the road and maybe even a few cliffs, but it’s a journey, and sometimes it can bring you to the most wonderful places.

Depression is a funny thing. Some days you have the strength to get up out of bed and attempt to live your life as a normal human being, but others…you just don’t want to leave your room and socialize with the outside world—the world that you hate on days like this. You stay secluded in a tiny space, left alone to the thoughts that eat at your brain until you finally sit down and let them be thought.

Icy: You ladies want to hear something funny? The quiz in last month's Teen Witch said "What would you do if you got to take over the whole universe? Darcy: What did you put? Icy: I wrote "You'll find out soon enough, loser," and sent it in.

She, of all people, knew the sacred trust that word -- "librarian" -- implied. Because a librarian was supposed to to be a spiritual, intellectual mentor who kept your secrets and didn't give you a funny look when you checked out a book on the care and feeding of pythons...A librarian opened up new doors for you, intellectually, too, without shoving you through them. A librarian was important.

Nothing wrong with eggs for dinner at ten o’clock at night when you’re about to commit a crime.

He opened the door wearing an oversized wife-beater and dirty trunks to match. Funny, but he recognized me withouta struggle. Immediately, I assumed he was sober, which was a good thing. Yet, seeing me wasn’t expected or desired. For sure, I was the last person on his list of surprises. Jerry adjusted his head and sharpened his bloodshot eyes. It wasthen his booze-bated breath greeted me well before he did. Ok, he was in a stupor or maybe on the rebound. Next, soiled diapers stole the little oxygen I had left—and I was still OUTDOORS. Yet somehow, I mustered enough wind to greet my brother. I tried to beat him to the punch and said, “What’s up bruh?” What happened next stomped my soul me for years to come! He never bothered to truly acknowledge me. Yet, heresponded without hesitation, “You know I can’t have any company!” Then he violently slammed the door shut! Jerry was gone! I couldn’t differentiate from being stupid or dumbstruck. I just stood silent on his porch all alone for about five minutes. I’d dealt with Jerry’s nastiness many times before. But he would initially warm up before dropping his hammer. Without a doubt, l was lost, confused, and bewildered like a teen-age boy losing a prom date. Foolishly, I used logic to dissect my embarrassment. First, the guy scolded me as if I should’ve known better! To be fair, Jerry was the breadwinner. His wife left him years ago. That part I understood. Only a fool would have hung around his crazy ass. It was amazing they got together, let alone stayed that way long enough to create those children. Yet, all his kids were pushing the ages of twenty andabove. What the hell did he mean, “I can’t receive any company!” Of course, I heard those crying babies which madehim a granddaddy. That was strangely obvious to his existence. Yes, the cycle continues! Second, I really didn’t care to go inside. I didn’t want to be in his business. I just wanted his input on Aunt Kathy’s memorial.

Here Lies Constatijn, slain by the first penis he saw that wasn't his own.

Mom lies down next to me and we both stare at the ceiling in complete silence. “Boys are like candy,” she suddenly says. I grin. “Really, Mom? That’s your advice? Boys are like candy. What is that? Forrest Gump on teens?

I’m trying to decide whether to tell you two to get a room or go barf in the trash can,” Emma said. “I’m leaning toward the second choice. You are both getting way too weird. And gross.” Cal barked out a laugh and slid his fingers down my arm to entwine with mine. His touch, and Emma’s comments, only made me blush more. Looks like Emma saw Cal lick my face after all. Now that wasn’t awkward or anything.

We aren't just defined by who we are, but by who are friends are. It's funny that we put so much importance on something that wont mean shit once we graduate.

What’s not to love? I made friends with a pretty girl and now we get to plan a castle break in. This beats the day to day kill, eat and survive.

But that was last year,” I protested as we walked through school on Tuesday, three days before Halloween. “I’m serious, you know how people are. They forget about things.” “Oh, really?” Roux said, then turned and smiled at a brunette passing us. “Hey, Julia, what’s up? How are things?” “Slut,” Julia responded, and kept walking. Roux just looked back at me knowingly. “You were saying?

It’s funny,” John says, “how piano keys are black and white, yet they play a thousand different colors.” “‘Cept there ain’t no piyana,” Captain Clark shushes. John’s face goes blank. “Really? I thought I heard one.” Captain Clark looks at me, almost apologetically. “He’s got Van Gogh’s ear fer music.

I stare past her at the inspirational kitten posters. There's one of a soaking-wet kitten climbing out of a toilet with the caption "it could be worse!" "Just tell me whatever it is you're thinking," Mrs. Paulsen says. "Whatever is going through your mind right now." "I hope they didn't actually drop a cat in the toilet to get that picture," I choke out. "...Pardon?" "Nothing. Sorry.

The ironic thing is though, at Williamson I don't have to "play it cool"--I'm cool by default because I'm one of the only black kids there..... Funny how it works with white kids though. It's dope to be black until it's hard to be black.

The greater the pain, the greater the fun.

It's funny how one life-changing event could make you forget what happiness felt like.

You know, bullying," her mother began. "I see it every day. Kids get bullied at school, they get cyber bullied, text bullied, Myface bullied." "Oh, God!" Arista groaned. "It's My Space or Facebook. Not Myface.

Sexually active? Sexually active? Patrick and I hadn't even learned the fine points of kissing yet! I marched on down. 'For your information,' I said from the doorway, as both Dad and Lester jerked to attention, 'I am about as sexually active as a bag of spinach, and if you want to keep me on the porch and not out in the park somewhere behind the bushes, you'll keep the stupid porch light off when I come home with a boy.

No, I am not apologizing. He needs to apologize to me. He called me names all day and pushed me. It is funny how it went unnoticed, but you want to punish me, the good guy. When I defend myself, then you want to look?

PROS: I'm not nice. I'm not not pretty, when I bother to brush my hair. I have an encyclopedic knowledge of rubbish TV shows. I have a blog, too, though it's mainly dedicated to self-pity, and it never results in cake.

Halfway through the set, the lead singer, who goes by Cloud, knife in hand, begins to stab at the cutout of Copal Brandt with a lion's passion. Out of nowhere blood is produced and Cloud proceeds to rub it all over his own face and body, then on his own bandmates. Afterwards he roars into the microphone, 'Do you know why we're doing this, McAllen? We're doing this FOR NO PARTICULAR REASON!!!!!!!!!

The next thing Jordana says makes me realize that it's too late to save her. "I've noticed that when you light a match, the flame is the same shape as a falling tear." She's been sensitized, turned gooey in the middle. I saw it happening and I didn't do anything to stop it. From now on, she'll be writing diaries and sometimes including little poems and she'll buy gifts for her favourite teachers and she'll admire the scenery and she'll watch the news and she'll buy soup for homeless people and she'll never burn my leg hair again.

I work with funny and cute gossipy filmmakers, that are smart and nice like little garden gnomes (tho not Jena, she's tall, lean and more like Glenda the Good Witch, tho in a more judgey way), and who NOTICE THINGS LIKE LOVE! So they can gossip about it when not working on their movie!

How about Asshole?" I offered. Bob nodded. The faerie flipped me off.

I feel pretty sure I know why the dinosaurs went extinct. They were waiting for Sam to pick out a cell phone case.

She's somewhere in the darkness. Just follow the smell.

Yes, the smiley at the end makes everything better. Much less scary.

It was as grim a social scene as I’d ever encountered, and I missed everything I’d left behind at home. I wondered what my nail polish collection was doing right now.

-Question: "On a scale from one to ten how fierce are you?"- David: "You are just asking me this because I am gay... What the fuck does that mean?" -David Levithan, at Teen Lit Con-

Matilda shook her head. “Damn teens and hormones. At least you own up to it. Amber doesn't believe me when I tell her half the kids here are sexually active.”“More than half,” Decker said, smiling. -dark summer

It takes a unique combination of angst, caffeine, and months of being told I’m a criminal or a sinner or both, but I am fully capable of deciding I want to smack the shit out of a child who is barely four feet tall.

What’s going on?” Ingrid asked. “Listen, nothing bad today, please.” She pulled a chair out and sat down. Faye stared at her and said the words as quickly as she could. “I’m just going to give it to you straight as I can. Mila is a witch.” Ingrid busted out with a laugh. “I wouldn’t call her that,” she said. “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” She poured the juice into her glass and took a drink. “What did the brat do this time?” She set her glass down.

She knew all about the cops and their trigger fingers and their predilection for dealing with those who would attack their brethren. Her father had drummed such stories into her from a young age; more so into Whiz, who bore the burden of being a black boy about to grow into a black teen. "If the police even look at you funny," Dad had said, "you hit the ground and put your hands over your head. Don't talk back. Don't try to run. Don't try to explain. They're just looking for an excuse to shoot you. Don't give it to them.

Phoebe Hurty hired me to write copy for ads about teen aged clothes. I had to wear the clothes I praised. That was part of the job. And I became friends with her two sons, who were my age. I was over at their house all the time. She would talk bawdily to me and her sons, and our girlfriends when we brought them around. She was funny. She was liberating. She taught us to be impolite in conversation not only about sexual matters, but about American history and famous heroes, about the distribution of wealth, about school, about everything. I now make my living being impolite. I am clumsy at it. I keep trying to imitate the impoliteness which was so graceful in Phoebe Hurty. I think now that grace was easier for her than it is for me because of the mood of the Great Depression. She believed what so many Americans believed then: that the nation would be happy and just and rational when prosperity came. I never hear that word anymore: Prosperity. It used to be a synonym for Paradise. And Phoebe Hurty was able to believe that the impoliteness she recommended would give shape to an American paradise. Now her sort of impoliteness is in fashion. But nobody believes anymore in a new American paradise. I sure miss Phoebe Hurty.

Look, guys, I know you mean well and you’re doing your job, but it’d be better for everyone if you all got back in your cars and drove away. Pretend like this never happened. I promise I’m not going to blow anything up and the most un-American thing I’ve ever done is root for South Korea in speed skating during the Olympics. This whole thing falls so far out of your jurisdiction it’s not even funny.” I pictured the officers cuffing Reth and reading him his rights, then trying to detain Cresseda. “Okay, it’s a little funny. But seriously. As far as you’re all concerned, I’m just a teen girl who is really far behind on planning for the dance decorating committee. And also dating an invisible boy.” “Orders are orders,” the mustachioed man said gruffly, elbowing the men around him and startling them out of their paranormal-induced stupor. “We’re taking you in.” He walked down the steps. I sighed. “Don’t make me call the dragon.” He laughed, and so did most of the others, but a few looked back at Lend and the blood drained from their faces. “Look, kid, I’m with you. I think this is all a mistake, maybe even a clerical error. We’ll figure it out at the station.” Arianna swore, stamping her foot. “That’s it! She put her fingers to her lips and let out a shrill, earsplitting whistle. A rush of wind engulfed us as the dragon in all its serpentine glory snaked out of the trees, settling onto the ground and rearing up to stare down at all of us. I thought I’d learn a few new words, but the men were too shocked to even swear this time.

For a moment, imagine the person you hope to marry. What do they look like? Are they funny, intelligent, kind? How do you hope they are living their life right now? Would it bother you if you knew they were hooking up each weekend or had five, ten, or fifteen different partners over the past several years? Or would it make you smile if you knew they were holding out for you? Why not live your life as you would want them to live theirs? Wait for the relationship.

One of my mom’s friends, a guy in his late fifties, recently told me he “hates” so many of today’s popular slang words (shade, lit, G.O.A.T.) because “they do nothing to improve the English language.” What’s funny is that I can almost promise, forty years ago, his parents were saying the exact same thing about cool, bummer, and freaking out, all phrases that have now taken a seat at the table of acceptable English terminology but started out as annoying teen slang.

It was the best hour of the day now and Basil was terribly happy. This summer he and his mother and sister were going to the lakes and next fall he was starting away to school. Then he would go to Yale and be a great athlete, and after that-- if his two dreams had fitted onto each other chronologically instead of existing independently side by side-- he was due to become a gentleman burglar. Everything was fine. He had so many alluring things to think about that it was hard to fall asleep at night.

Are you going to sleep in the bed with me?” Jensen shrugged. “I hadn’t really gotten that far. If we share a bed . . .” His meaning was clear. “You think if we share a bed, we might have sex.” He nodded, studying me. “We might.” I could barely move, I was shaking so intensely. “Do you want sex?” I laughed at myself immediately. “I mean, not that we—it’s just, tonight when you kissed me, it felt like you weren’t just playing.” “I fucking love sex,” he said in a quiet growl. “Of course I want it. But tonight was complicated, and I don’t just have sex with someone on impulse.” “God.” I let my head fall back against the headboard. “That’s incredibly hot, and I don’t even know why.” “Pippa.” I grinned up at him. “Jensen.” My heart beat a savage rhythm in my chest as he reached forward, lifting a hand and touching my bottom lip with the tip of his index finger. “Do you like sex?” he whispered. Oh, fuck me. “Yes.

I glanced over and saw Wyatt glaring at me. Journey’s “Lovin’ Touchin’, Squeezin’” was playing on the radio. “What?” I asked. “You secretly hate me, don’t you.” He gestured toward the radio. “You can’t stand the thought of me taking a much needed nap and leaving you to drive without conversation. You’re torturing me with this sappy stuff.” “It’s Journey. I love this song.” Wyatt mumbled something under his breath, picked up the CD case, and started looking through it. He paused with a choked noise, his eyes growing huge. “You’re joking, Sam. Justin Bieber? What are you, a twelve-year old girl?” There’s gonna be one less lonely girl, I sang in my head. That was a great song. How could he not like that song? Still, I squirmed a bit in embarrassment. “A twelve-year old girl gave me that CD,” I lied. “For my birthday.” Wyatt snorted. “It’s a good thing you’re a terrible liar. Otherwise, I’d be horrified at the thought that a demon has been hanging out with a bunch of giggling pre-teens.” He continued to thumb through the CDs. “Air Supply Greatest Hits? No, no, I’m wrong here. It’s an Air Supply cover band in Spanish.” He waved the offending CD in my face. “Sam, what on earth are you thinking? How did you even get this thing?” “Some tenant left it behind,” I told him. “We evicted him, and there were all these CDs. Most were in Spanish, but I’ve got a Barry Manilow in there, too. That one’s in English.” Wyatt looked at me a moment, and with the fastest movement I’ve ever seen, rolled down the window and tossed the case of CDs out onto the highway. It barely hit the road before a semi plowed over it. I was pissed. “You asshole. I liked those CDs. I don’t come over to your house and trash your video games, or drive over your controllers. If you think that will make me listen to that Dubstep crap for the next two hours, then you better fucking think again.” “I’m sorry Sam, but it’s past time for a musical intervention here. You can’t keep listening to this stuff. It wasn’t even remotely good when it was popular, and it certainly hasn’t gained anything over time. You need to pull yourself together and try to expand your musical interests a bit. You’re on a downward spiral, and if you keep this up, you’ll find yourself friendless, living in a box in a back alley, stinking of your own excrement, and covered in track marks.” I looked at him in surprise. I had no idea Air Supply led to lack of bowel control and hard core drug usage. I wondered if it was something subliminal, a kind of compulsion programmed into the lyrics. Was Russell Hitchcock a sorcerer? He didn’t look that menacing to me, but sorcerers were pretty sneaky. Even so, I was sure Justin Bieber was okay. As soon as we hit a rest stop, I was ordering a replacement from my iPhone.

I squeaked and squirmed to get loose, but I was born with the upper body strength of a hamster.

She’s a teen girl,” I say. “I think their genetic disposition is to be silent and surly for at least two years, maybe three.

Caspian Marks, he... he is a lot of things. He was made to mean something, to be someone, to move mountains, touch the moon, and explore the deep blue seas. He was made to become someone extraordinary. So don’t you dare let him be stripped of that potential, and help him see his potential if needs it. Sometimes he will, sometimes he won’t. And if at any time you ever need the reminder, he may be a lot of things, but Caspian Marks will never be a heartbreaker. He is not meant to break hearts.” Caspian Marks was a lot of things. He was irritating and brave and calculative and helpful and articulate and beautiful and funny in his own way. He was a lot of things, Caspian Marks, but out of all the things he was out of the many things in the world he could be, he was a lover. He was a lover, and he loved me.

My name is John I’m often white If you’re desperate I’m a welcome sight I’m often engaged But never Wed You use me more often Than your own bed answer

A man went out to walk his dog and whilst he was out, it started to rain. His dog got very wet. The man had not got an umbrella so his coat became soaking wet and his shoes were sodden however not a hair on his head got wet - why?

The idea that being drunk is funny is a myth that needs to be seriously reexamined by the entertainment industry and could easily be contributing to the high rates of binge drinking among teens

Mom let go of us and leaned back so she could look us both in the eye. “No more spending the night in the tree fort, you two.

But desperation does funny things to a person. Makes you grasp for any sliver of hope. Makes you throw rational thought and logic out the window. Makes you act in ways you would never have imagined possible. Turns strong men into weak. Honest men into liars.

Kun katselen heitä, mieleeni tulee se prinsessa, joka ei pystynyt nukkumaan, koska tunsi herneen sadan patjan alta. Uskon, että hekin varmasti heräisivät herneen aiheuttamaan häiriöön. Minä olen puolestani aivan toisenlainen. Teen kerran kokeenkin. Laitan patjan alle perunan, koska talostamme ei löydy yhtään hernettä. Nukun kuin tukki aamuun asti, vaikka patjoja on sadan sijasta vain yksi. Olen pettynyt. Minusta ei koskaan tule oikeaa prinsessaa. En koskaan pyörry tai joudu sairaalaan, vaikka myrskyt raivoaisivat ja kaupungit sortuisivat. En ole edes millekään allerginen.

In my late teens and college years, after I’d had my heart broken again and again, Zack became a kind of symbol. He represented all my relationship mistakes, all my misreadings and misconceptions. He played guitar, so he was an artist. He was an artist, so he was sensitive. He was sensitive, so he had to be kind. I think of it whenever I see a young woman fawning all over a nerdy guy, some comedian or actor, thinking he couldn’t ever be cruel because he’s funny and he wears glasses. He’s not conventionally hot, so he’s not full of himself, so he’ll be a good boyfriend, right? I have Zack to thank for showing me that it often isn’t the case. Guys like that always seem to think they’re Duckie from Pretty in Pink when they’re actually Steff.

I sure wasn't going to ask Aunt Sally, because if she told me once that getting your period was like a moth becoming a butterfly, she'd probably say that sexual intercourse was like a deer getting antlers or something.

Roaches should never trust humans. We’re all doomed.

I live in a world where school is in a precarious balance with social life, parties, and sports games. He lives in a world where school is all-consuming, and when his homework isn’t, Star Wars and video games are.

Hormones, it seemed, we're making a much-delayed appearance in her life. Liv was horrified.

They all perished. tragic deaths. sad parents. lawsuits.' Monica's words were met with stunned silence. ignoring the horrified looks on the student's faces, she shouted, 'Joking! We discovered that teens stand out far more than they blend in. they complain a lot, court high drama, and of course, there's their attitude.

Given that teenagers are parting with childhood and driven by the wish to be seen as mature, parents can sometimes change behavior by pointing out its immaturity. For instance, you could say, “We know that you like to tease your friends—it may seem funny now, but it probably won’t fly in high school.” Be cautious when calling a teenager’s behavior immature. Doing so can be an effective way to help girls grow up, but it can also be received as a powerful insult. There’s no upside in insulting teens (or anyone else, for that matter), so be sure you’re coming from a warm and loving place if you try this approach.

My old college girlfriend asked for my help with her algebra homework Unfortunately I don't solve for ex!

My girlfriend left a note at my brand new Porsche. It said, “This is not working!” I got nervous. I started the car and it is working fine!

I pictured myself falling off and getting trampled to death. Caroline would be beyond embarrassed, but I wouldn’t care because I’d be dead, and Ellie would have her fill of blood and guts until the sequel to Bloodsucking Zombies was released.

I don’t know. Let me think. Do I want pie? Am I even hungry? Oh, this is a hard decision. Maybe I should call the DUH, YES, I LOVE PIE ASSOCIATION.

What is one thing you can do to smile and feel good, even when you are sad (exercise, walk in nature, read, watch a funny movie, play a game, paint, bake, dance to music, volunteer, or even daydream)?

He was made to mean something, to be someone, to move mountains, touch the moon, and explore the deep blue seas. But funny? Not funny. He was not made to be funny, but right then and there, right at that moment, he was funny.

We advertise good friendships as part of the Complete Teenage Experience, because good friendships make for great stories. Content creators romanticize adolescent friendships the same way Hallmark movies treat love: there is a lid for every pot, a yin for every yang, and a savior for every screwup. Turn on any Netflix original movie about teenagers or read any great YA book, and you will see that the perfect sidekick (funny! supportive! quirky! endlessly loyal!) is a fixture in each teen’s life. In reality, middle school friendships play out less like Netflix originals, and more like those toy commercials that came on during Saturday morning cartoons when we were kids. As an only child, I remember yearning to have the same fun those kids were having, begging my parents for the Barbie Jeep or Hot Wheels Track until they gave in. But soon after ripping the toy from its packaging, I came to the stark realization that it was nothing like advertised. Those kids were only pretending to have fun, the set designers made the toys seem infinitely cooler than they actually were, and more often than not, we didn’t even have the right-sized batteries. What a colossal disappointment! Especially when those kids on TV looked like they were having the time of their lives.

The pose of a horse in a statue tells you how the rider died. If both front legs are in the air, the rider died in battle. If one leg is in the air, the rider died of wounds sustained in battle and if both front legs are on the ground, the rider died of natural causes. Did You Know?

Funny how little things seem to weigh a ton when you carry them long enough.

is

An atomic bomb went off in my chest. My vision of a calm summer, page-flipping in the backyard disintegrated. Camp. Tons of people. Cheesy team building. With tons of people. -Andy and the Extroverts

TOM CLARE From a child, I was gripped by the amazing imagination on display in Alice in Wonderland. In my teens, the wild and wacky Goon Show came into being on the radio. Later, I became a huge fan of Tom Sharpe and his wickedly funny books. The more Gothic writing of Daphne du Maurier, especially in Rebecca and Don't Look Now, and the time manipulation novels of William Boyd, linger in my memory. Absurdity, in all its forms, is my type of humour. In retirement, all these sources, together with the stranger events from my life, inspired me to take up writing.

What did one volcano say to the other volcano? I lava you.

What did one volcano say to the other volcano? I lava

or

Would you rather be able to control the weather or talk to animals?

What happens when you place dollar bills in the fridge? You get cool cash. What happened to the thief who stole a calendar?

Everyone is different -- not better or worse -- just different. Value yourself and love yourself. Nancy Mae Johnson Things My Mama Never Told Me

What kind of suit did the tailor sew for his lawyer? A lawsuit.

It was afraid of cracking jokes. Why was the Math book always sad?

WOULD YOU RATHER… Your toys came to life or that your pets could speak?

What do ghosts like to eat in a hot afternoon? I Scream. Where do sheep go on vacation? The Baaa-hamas. What did the paper say to the pencil?

Why couldn't the astronaut book a hotel on the moon? Because it was already full. What do you get when you cross an elephant with a fish?

kind of award did the dentist receive? A little plaque. What do you call a funny mountain?

not eat chicken for a year?