My mother used to put notes in my lunch that said, “Help, I’m being held prisoner in a school lunch factory.” 
Share some of your family jokes, humor, etc.
“Hey, let’s go to Denny’s!”
This has to be suggested every time we can’t agree on where to eat out, or can’t find a restaurant. It stems from an incident several years ago where we had just gotten off a plane and were looking around for a place to eat at 10pm. Denny’s was the only thing nearby that was open, so we went (for the first time, incidentally). All was well until halfway through the meal, when my dad discovered that there was half of an old chewed-up hamburger patty stuck to the underside of his plate. None of us had ordered a burger. It was so disgusting as to be absolutely hilarious. We all knew Denny’s had a reputation for being gross and sketchy, so the reaction was more like, “Well, of course!” My mom almost fell out of the booth, she was laughing so hard.
First and last time at a Denny’s. We all swore we’d starve or eat at 7-Eleven before ever setting foot in another Denny’s. It’s now an inside family joke.
Along those lines, “Who’s got the Fribble?”
My family went to Friendly’s one evening but it happened to be a day when my father was in one of his famous bad moods. We got an inexperienced waitress who took our order and then almost immediately came back with a full tray (not for us of course). “Who’s got the Fribble?” Her mistake and a completely ridiculous product name up against my father’s irritation ( <sigh+ :rolleyes:> “No one has a Fribble”) had us using this as a catchphrase for years.
Also, apparently when I was tiny I was asking a long string of questions in front of my parents. I must have been on a roll and enjoying the audience, because my asking “Is this my hand?” was brought up for decades.
Traipseying.
My papa had a wonderfully expressive way of speaking, but he had a bit of old Mrs. Malaprop stirred in. He’d tell stories about how, “I went traipseying up the stairs, but the door was locked, so I had to go traipseying down again to find the key…”
He’s been gone these few years, but we all say “Traipseying” in his memory.
When ever the Lion King came out, it was a well known fact, in our family (and extended family) that “hakuna matata” really meant “Go fuck yourself.”
I think I was in first grade, when we were learning phonics in school. Well, the family was out for a drive in the country, and we wound up at a place that sold frozen custard cones. In front of the place was a big sign listing all the flavors. One of them was pistachio. So I figured I’d show off my talent with phonics, and asked “What’s pis-ta-KY-o?” For many years, whenever there was talk of ice cream, I was reminded of “pis-ta-KY-o.”
I play this stupid game with my wife in which she must guess the price of something. It could be a house that costs $356,789. I’ll make her guess and then tell her higher or lower until she finally zeroes in on the exact price (after many, many, many guessses). Then I act amazed that she was able to guess the exact amount. I don’t know how it started, but I’ve been bugging her with this joke for years.
My late mother-in-law would continually badger guests to take food, etc., a trait that my husband shares in slightly lesser degree. One summer my daughter and her then fiancé stopped by to visit her and the MIL kept asking them to have some cherries (bing cherries had just arrived in the markets). Later that day they came to our house and my husband did the same thing. The fiancé asked our daughter, “What is it with your family and cherries?” To this day, if someone offers anyone anything (whether it’s advice, food, or assistance) a second time after it was turned down, the response is “Want some cherries?”
My younger sister and I have developed a well-worn repartee that depends mostly on quotes from Friends, Seinfeld, or any number of shared favorite movies, but the one that still gets a laugh every time is “Ovaltine!” which is said in response to Mom’s sometimes incessant offerings of fruits, snacks, seconds of whatever.
More than 50 years ago, my mother famously shut down a long and tiresome argument with my father by responding to his sarcastic “I suppose you want a divorce” with “NO! I want to stay married and make life hell for you!”
This line has become our family’s treasured heirloom. Passed down from mother to children and now grandchildren, more valued than any old photo or handmade quilt.
And used by all of us far more frequently. 
Over 50 years ago my wifes parents parents gave me a set of ramps to drive a car up on while working on it.
I did a brake job and had the car jacked up and on jack stands.
My wife wanted to know why I hadn’t used my new ramps. I pointed out that you can’t take the wheels off while they are on ramps.
Since then when anyone in the family makes a stupid remark they are “up on the ramps”.
When our kids were younger, whenever we were bored, we used to make puns on any given topic, with each person chiming in with a pun until we had worn out the topic.
One day, the subject was “Fruits and Veggies”. Stuff like, “How have you bean?” and “Wow, that was corny!”
After we had pretty much exhausted the topic, my wife suddenly chimed in with, “Well, avocadodently!”, playing off the word “evidently”.
My kids and I just hooted with laughter, to the point where now whenever someone points out something that is patently obvious, somebody is bound to mutter, “Avocadodently!”
When I was a kid living in Venice, CA, we had an elderly neighbor who baked cookies, cakes, etc.; all the neighborhood kids knew her. Some of us, me included, got to taking her baked goods for granted; I was about seven years old when I knocked on her door asd asked for cookies. She said, “Douglas, doesn’t your mother make cookies?”
I said, “Oh, no. She’s too old to make cookies.” 
That line has been a family joke since then (the 50s.) Mom is now 83. 
We lived several miles north of Los Angeles International Airport. About halfway there, at the intersection between Lincoln and Jefferson boulevards (no buildings there then), there was a fruit stand. The fruit vendor tossed a wilted banana into a pool of water at one point while we were stopped for the light; to this day that is known as “The place where the man threw the banana in the water.”
Yours is not the only family that riffs off Young Frankenstein or any other movie for that matter.
In my family, the line used when someone was messing with something they ought not was “PUT! ZE [object]! BECK!”. Mom used that once during clinicals with her students and scared them silly.
My mother died recently (that’s not the funny part) from cervical cancer. The last few weeks were pretty awful, with a hospice nurse doing daily stops at her home. My mother didn’t do well with the various opiods, but the nurse brought refills anyway.
We were all at her house the day before she died and my brother was tidying up and found tons of narcotics. My sister was going to give them to the nurse to destroy, but my brother said he wouldn’t mind having some at home for a rainy day. He asked if anyone was bothered by that and nobody objected.
So, he suggested that anyone who wanted any should come with him to the kitchen, where they could be divided up. Everyone moved from living-room to kitchen. When my gf came back from picking up pizzas, she saw a bunch of people, baggies, and piles of pills. She asked what was going on.
I said, “we’re divvying up the opiates, duh”. That has become a catch phrase with my family.
A few years back my brother was driving to work at like 8 AM, in Cleveland, middle of winter. He’s sitting at a light waiting turn, when his passenger door opens up, and a naked woman gets inside. Butt nekkid, 8 AM, middle of winter. He freaks out a little, as you would, and say what the hell, who are you, and are you ok? To the last question she replied ‘Oh I’m fiiiiiine’ with a long drawn out emphasis on fine. She was stoned out of her gourd. He called the cops, drove to a parking lot, kept her talking in the car, and waited. When a cop showed up he tapped on the passenger side window, and my brother rolled it down. This cop looks at her, his eyes bug out, and he say ‘Ma’am are you ok?’ And she says ‘Oh I’m fiiiiiine’, same thing. He glances up at my brother, mouths ‘what the fuck’ and she just shakes his head and shrugs. The cop takes her to his car, gives her a big blanket, and they drive off. My brother had to make a statement later, and got a copy of the report (or something) so he could prove to us he wasn’t making it all up.
To this day we like to respond to any variation of ‘How are you doing?’ with ‘Oh I’m fiiiiiiiine’.
When we were kids, my youngest brother and sister would fall asleep on the floor in the evenings while we were watching TV. My parents would wake them up to take them up to bed, but it was hard to tell whether or not they were really awake or not (the entire family sleep-walks). My father would ask them, “How many?” and if they answered with a number like “Three” then we knew they were sleepwalking. If they were awake, they would snap grumpily, “I’m awake!” So “how many” became a family joke for sleepwalking events/brain cramps.
Years later when we were all grown, my father had major surgery. I called the hospital and asked the nurses to ask him “How many?” when he woke up. He laughed but the nurses were mystified.
It is impossible for anyone in my family to sing Happy Birthday without ending it with “without a shirt.” (Notes G A G Bb.) I have no idea why.
When my kids were young we were playing “the firehydrant game” to pass time on a road trip. The game is simple, the first person to spot a hydrant yells ot “Fire hydrant”, points it out and get 1 point. No one else can claim that hydrant. At the end of the trip the person with the most points wins. My middle child was really in to the game one day. She spotted a hydrant and, in her excitement, butchered the pronounciation. To this day, a fire hydrant is a “fudda hudda”.
“Brown bees don’t bite.” So said my older sister at about three, fist clenched around a brown bee that most certainly did.