Well, maybe I’ve said one or two funny things. But I didn’t write them down, so they’re lost. (You could try looking under the stove.)
I did, however, create not one, not three, but two bad puns in honor of my freshly-advanced age. Except I didn’t so much create them, as that they came to me, fully formed, like manna from heaven, or butter croissants from Costco.
And now that I’ve ruined them with too much build-up (fake! only good puns can be ruined) let me just go ahead and shove them in your face like
dirty socks Costco manna.
What do you call the guy who edges the front of his car in ahead of yours just when you’d found a good spot at the curb?
A nosy parker.
There’s a special kind of tiny blood-sucking bug found in underground tombs that can be trained to spell out secret codes. It’s called a crypt tick.