18 Jokes For Three Hundred

Puns

Updated on: Mar 07 2025

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Why did the bicycle fall over? It was two-tired from going 300 miles!
What do you call a group of 300 spies? A covert-300 operation!
What's a skeleton's least favorite room in the house? The living room, because it has 300 bones!
What do you call a group of musical whales that weighs a total of 300 tons? An orca-stra!
Why did the tomato turn red? Because it saw the salad dressing, and it was 300 island!
What do you call a Roman gladiator who weighs 300 pounds? Maximus Massive!
Why did the chicken join a band? It had 300 drumsticks!
Why did the scarecrow win an award? Because he was outstanding in his field, 300 days a year!
Three hundred? That's the number of unread messages I have from my mom asking if I'm eating well. I swear, my phone thinks I'm on a hunger strike!
You know you're an adult when your idea of a wild Friday night is spending three hundred dollars on a vacuum cleaner and being excited about it. I've officially hit rock bottom, or should I say 'dust bottom'?
Three hundred is the number of dollars I spent on a self-help book that promised to make me a millionaire in a month. Spoiler alert: I'm still waiting for that 'millionaire' status, but hey, at least I'm rich in disappointment!
Three hundred is the number of TV channels I have, and yet I still spend an hour scrolling through them only to end up watching a show about people watching paint dry. It's riveting, really.
Three hundred is the number of excuses my friend gave for being late. I didn't even know there were that many reasons for 'traffic' and 'unexpected events' in one person's life. It's like he's living in a real-life soap opera.
You ever try counting to three hundred during a boring meeting? I did once. By the time I got to 298, I was daydreaming about a parallel universe where meetings are outlawed.
Three hundred is also the approximate number of times my GPS has said, 'Recalculating...' in a single road trip. I'm starting to think my GPS has commitment issues.
Three hundred is the number of unread emails in my inbox. At this point, I consider my email a virtual black hole. If aliens ever invade, they're going to find my inbox and think we communicate exclusively in newsletters.
Three hundred is also the number of seconds it takes for me to regret lending money to a friend. It's like I've mastered the art of choosing the financially challenged as my sidekicks.
Three hundred is the number of times I've told myself I'll start exercising 'tomorrow.' Well, tomorrow never comes, and apparently, neither does the six-pack abs.

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