14 Jokes For Mark Normand

Puns

Updated on: Jun 17 2024

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Why did Mark Normand bring a ladder to the comedy club? Because he wanted to raise the bar!
Why did Mark Normand study astronomy? To learn the art of delivering out-of-this-world punchlines!
Why did Mark Normand take up gardening? He wanted to cultivate some 'groan' tomatoes for his !
Mark Normand once entered a pun contest with his jokes. He won - it was pun-ishing for the competition!

Dating apps are like a buffet for anxiety. You scroll through endless options, each one scarier than the last. It's like playing 'Where's Waldo?' but instead, it's 'Where's the Normal?'

Dating these days is like trying to find a needle in a haystack, but the haystack is made of haywire personalities and questionable profile pictures. I mean, how many times can someone hold a fish in their profile before we start a support group for aquatic enthusiasts?

I tried following a cooking show recipe once. Let's just say my kitchen looked like a crime scene and the dish tasted like a mystery novel. Now, I stick to ordering takeout and playing the 'Leftovers Lottery.'

Cooking shows make it seem so easy. But the reality is, I turn the kitchen into a battlefield, and the smoke alarm becomes my cheering section. If there's an award for creativity in culinary disasters, I'm a Michelin-starred chef.

I've accepted that I have the dance moves of a malfunctioning robot. My friends say I have a unique style, but I suspect they're being polite. I'm one step away from starting my own 'Awkward Moves Dance Academy.'

I hit the dance floor with the confidence of a pro and the coordination of a confused penguin. My signature move? The 'I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing-but-I'm-committed' shuffle. If dancing were a sport, I'd be the reigning champion of unintentional comedy.

I've come to terms with the fact that I'm a full-grown adult who still can't fold a fitted sheet. If there's an apocalypse and the survival criteria include sheet-folding skills, I'm a goner.

They say adulting is all about mastering life skills. Well, I've nailed the art of ordering takeout, but folding fitted sheets remains a mystical quest beyond my comprehension. The only thing that gets 'fitted' is my patience into a tight ball of frustration.

I think my body is allergic to exercise. Every time I hit the gym, it's like my muscles stage a rebellion and refuse to cooperate. If panting and sweating were Olympic sports, I'd be a gold medalist.

You know that feeling when you try to exercise and your body screams, 'Abort mission!'? My gym routine is less 'beast mode' and more 'least mode.' I'm pretty sure my treadmill has witnessed more napping than running.

I recently realized I have the memory of a goldfish on vacation. I can't remember where I parked my car, but I can recall every embarrassing moment from middle school in vivid detail.

My memory is like a sieve, only retaining the most embarrassing and cringe-worthy moments. If my brain were a computer, it would have a pop-up window reminding me of every awkward encounter I've ever had.

There's a fine line between 'fashionably late' and 'did they forget the concept of time?' I usually trip over that line and end up in the 'awkwardly early' territory. It's like attending a solo party before the actual party.

I have a unique talent for arriving too early, like I'm auditioning for the role of 'over-enthusiastic guest.' You know you're early when even the hosts are surprised to see you. Maybe I should start carrying a book titled 'How to Kill Time Without Making Eye Contact.
I envy people who can effortlessly strike up conversations with strangers. When I attempt it, I end up blurting out random facts like an awkward human Wikipedia. 'Did you know pigeons can recognize themselves in a mirror?' Yeah, me neither.

They say laughter is the best medicine, but have they tried chocolate? I'm pretty sure a bar of chocolate has solved more problems than a stand-up comedy show. Plus, it doesn't judge your laugh.

Laughter is great, don't get me wrong. But have you ever had that euphoric moment biting into a piece of chocolate and feeling like everything will be okay? If chocolate could tell jokes, it'd be the most popular comedian in town.

Traveling sounds amazing until you're stuck in a middle seat on a long flight. It's like being in a live-action reenactment of 'Survivor: Economy Class.' And the prize? A sore neck and a miniature bag of pretzels.

Ah, the joys of air travel. The only time you'll see grown adults fight over an armrest like it's the last piece of treasure on Earth. If there's a secret club for people who survive middle seats, sign me up for therapy.

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