The Christmas holiday has brought its festivities to my home and then quickly dissipated the joy into the bittersweet sadness of saying goodbye to loved ones who one wonders how many holidays you can share with again. I sit by my artificial gas fireplace (neither the gas or the fireplace are artificial; but there aint no wood up in that bitch) and watch the crackling asbestos embers burn. "That would make a great Yule Time Gif." I say aloud to myself. My wife looks at me like she has done so many times before... "Your still not poasting on that fucking degenerate Husky site?" she says with an asterisk over the your. The tinkle of ice in my glass of bleach causes me to look from the fire to her. "Why arent your holding a semi automatic and covered in tattoos?" I belligerently say in reply. I gaze back to the fire. I look back in what I thought was a moment later and suddenly I am in a world of Gifs! The pixelation is amazing as I can no longer see the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, rather the short clip of me scarffing down a plate of Velveeta shells and cheese plays repeatedly in short 5 second bursts. My bottle of half drank scotch (read; discount Safeway whiskey) magically replenishes itself after every swig. I run to my computer and check. But it has permeated my virtual world as well. The Splitskin gifs are there - but they have dried up, repeating on my screen like another seven win record in an ocean of catcus bowel losses. My search however has just begun.
The Christmas holiday has brought its festivities to my home and then quickly dissipated the joy into the bittersweet sadness of saying goodbye to loved ones who one wonders how many holidays you can share with again. I sit by my artificial gas fireplace (neither the gas or the fireplace are artificial; but there aint no wood up in that bitch) and watch the crackling asbestos embers burn. "That would make a great Yule Time Gif." I say aloud to myself. My wife looks at me like she has done so many times before... "Your still not poasting on that fucking degenerate Husky site?" she says with an asterisk over the your. The tinkle of ice in my glass of bleach causes me to look from the fire to her. "Why arent your holding a semi automatic and covered in tattoos?" I belligerently say in reply. I gaze back to the fire. I look back in what I thought was a moment later and suddenly I am in a world of Gifs! The pixelation is amazing as I can no longer see the pile of dirty dishes in the sink, rather the short clip of me scarffing down a plate of Velveeta shells and cheese plays repeatedly in short 5 second bursts. My bottle of half drank scotch (read; discount Safeway whiskey) magically replenishes itself after every swig. I run to my computer and check. But it has permeated my virtual world as well. The Splitskin gifs are there - but they have dried up, repeating on my screen like another seven win record in an ocean of catcus bowel losses. My search however has just begun.
This would have been more appropriate Welcome back.
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Welcome back.