Cracked out Octopus picture aside, am I missing something? Chick basically said she was passing up beers and debauchery for coloring books on the weekend.
According to my debit and credit cards, coloring might be the best option for these coming weekends. This girl must be rolling double-cheeseburgers and contemporary t-shirts...or a Hello Kitty lunchbox collection. I don't know, she's clearly bat-shit crazy, but she's away from all the chaos and stress that is the bar scene.
Let's go back to coloring books. The most frustrating item of my childhood life was the coloring book. I'm a perfectionist and things kept messing up my masterpieces. If any part slipped out of the lines, the page was ripped out. That shit wasn't worth putting on the refrigerator. The fridge demanded perfection, aka school pictures, good test scores, and schedules. My coloring book picture would need to figuratively piss excellence to make it. For my 3 years of extensive coloring, maybe 2 or 3 pictures met my standards of making the fridge. I'm pretty sure they were all of Garfield too. And I named my cat Garfield. I guess I have a problem, but that's neither here nor there.
By the way, when I am a dad (hahahaha LOLZ!!!) and my kid tries to bring some half-assed effort to me for fridge consideration, I am going to crumble it in front of him/her. It'd be the picture crumbling equivalent of swatting a hapless lay-up in a father-son basketball game.
Don't go up with that weak shit, son/daughter.
3 Reactions to this post
Add Commentdon't be a father.
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