Sorry boss, went a bit over on fuel costs this trip. If I need to chip in a few hundred million from my personal account, I can make it work.

Imagine being literally off the planet and still be expected to check your work email.

The squirrels were sighted shortly afterwards in a poorly modified Subaru WRX.

Oh good, someone is happy at least.

Nah, couldn’t be him. He got cancelled.

I too have figured out teleportation. All it takes is for me to consume a bottle of tequila, and I wake up some time later in a dumpster outside of a Wal Mart. Two things I have yet to figure out; why is it always a dumpster outside Wal Mart? And why do I always lose my pants when passing through the quantum realm? Who, or what, is stealing my pants?

If they can even survive past asking why their pizza doesn’t have any cheese on it.

Which country will one of these people end up getting murdered? My money’s on France. Someone is going to douse their steak au poivre in bacon flavored ranch, and the reaction won’t be pretty.

Well yeah, if it’s 4,000 years old, odds are pretty solid it isn’t human.

Hopefully that feeling is his left arm going tingly and numb because he’s about to have a massive heart attack that’ll finally finish the fucking job.

It’s amazing how many of these pricks just completely blow up the old argument of never judging a book by its cover. Just look at this asshole. He might as well write on his jawline “aim your fist here.”

Grandma gets to hear “six sevvven” for all of eternity.