Caption Contest #316

(above image courtesy of newyorker.com.)

12. Can you get clip-ins for sandals?
11. It’s hard to pedal in these Snuggies.
10. It’s like riding on a cloud.
9. Welcome to salesmen heaven. What are you pedaling?
8. So is this, like, an infinity speed?
7. God’s going through a divorce, and he’s trying to buy our love this way.
6. No bells? No streamers? What a crock.
4. We’re not getting wings, but in this economy we all have to make sacrifices.
3. Mine’s a Trinity-speed.
2. I keep asking myself, was it worth not getting to ride a motorcycle in hell?
1. You were right. Turns out Lance Armstrong IS God.

Caption Contest #315

(above image courtesy of newyorker.com.)

10. No, his cousin is the jolly one.
9. This spells the end of the going green movement.
8. I told you broccoli could end up being bad for us.
7. I may need to amend that whole “Don’t jump, you’ve got a lot to live for” thing I said before.
6. I told you we should have sold our General Mills stocks.
5. Marlene, I guess now's as good a time as any to tell you I’ve been having an affair.
4. Shoot, I left the roof key back in our apartment.
3. I would’ve guessed he was a vegetarian.
2. I heard The Morton Salt girl dumped him.
1. I thought we were coming up here for the Birds Eye view.

Caption Contest #314

(above image courtesy of newyorker.com.)

10. I’ll have what he’s having.
9. You say four out of five superheroes prefer this bar?
8. Excuse me, have you seen The Invisible Man?
7. I don’t work the Sabbath.
6. Uh…well I can juggle a bit.
5. Crime rate ain’t what it used to be.
4. All the mascots got laid off during the players’ strike.
3. I know what you’re offering helps me think I’m invincible, but deep down it just reinforces a complex of self-doubt developed in childhood.
2. If my wife calls, tell her I’m stopping a bank robbery.
1. Excuse me, bartender, someone just stole my truck, which was carrying a top-secret nuclear reactor, blood donations for the local hospital and toys for an orphanage. May I use your phone?

Caption Contest #313

(above image courtesy of newyorker.com.)

10. Notice anything different?
9. I’m calling it the Cape Cod ‘stache.
8. It’s almost long enough that I can donate it to Locks-of-Love.
7. Hey, Pete, turnaround—turnaround a second. Hey—hey, Pete…
6. And don’t give me any more upper lip.
5. This account is important. Think you can handlebar it?
4. Oh, is it December already?
3. Today’s lunch special is Spaghetti Mustache and Meatballs.
2. Good news! We got the Heineken Light contract.
1. Shave for the job you want, not for the job you have.