You know what I'd really like for my birthday? A piece of paper defiled with a cartoon duck, a poem written by some MFA flunkie, and my aunt's signature scrawled on the bottom of it.
No matter what the occasion, greeting cards tell your loved ones that you are an unoriginal moron who is a pawn in the greatest ponzi scheme of them all. And the fact that you stood there in some CVS deciding between the "funny" one and the one with glitter (microscopic flecks of glass that cling to everything … definitely also on the list) for a good minute really lets someone know that you care.
No, really. This senseless tree carnage seems to actually tug at a sentimental snag, because I can't seem to throw greeting cards away. They just pile up in drawers.
When the only thing you collect is something you despise, it's on the list.
No matter what the occasion, greeting cards tell your loved ones that you are an unoriginal moron who is a pawn in the greatest ponzi scheme of them all. And the fact that you stood there in some CVS deciding between the "funny" one and the one with glitter (microscopic flecks of glass that cling to everything … definitely also on the list) for a good minute really lets someone know that you care.
No, really. This senseless tree carnage seems to actually tug at a sentimental snag, because I can't seem to throw greeting cards away. They just pile up in drawers.
When the only thing you collect is something you despise, it's on the list.
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3 comments:
happy birthday, i got you an assignment. open this piece of shit, then recycle it.
fucking homework for a gift.
thanks for nothing. literally.
The cards with the sprinkles or glitter or whatever...Oh, I'm so happy you came. Let me get out the fucking vaccuum THANK YOU SO MUCH
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