The Snockerin' of You by Hallmark Cards
I was at my local Wal –Mart the other day buyin' a card for the missus’15th birthday (now before you even start, i’m just funnin’ around here. the wife ain’t 15, alright? remember? suspend your disbelief. besides, i ain’t no pedophile. the missus is legal. i have the papers to prove it. unfortunately). I gotta tell ya, I hate buyin’ birthday cards. In fact, I hate buyin’ cards period. It’s such a scam and a half. Have you seen the prices of these “cards”? Four bucks? Are you kiddin’ me? Is Hallmark and it’s cohorts out of their collective minds? They’ve got nerve to charge that much money for a sheet of folded cardstock. That’s just god damn ridiculous. I’m kinda surprised they don’t have loan officers, or loan sharks, waitin’ for you at the end of the greetin’ card aisle to finance your purchase. If they had interest free for 90 days, I would definitely sign up!
Ever notice as you’re saunterin' on down the card aisle of your neighborhood Wal-Mart, or at your local money pit they call a card store, you can never find the right kind of cards? They’re either unrealistically sweet:
“To my sweetheart. My love for you is wider than the wettest ocean. Deeper than the deepest corn silo ever made. Blah, blah, blah…”
(ain’t nobody feels that way about nobody. i’m sorry. they fucking don’t. at least not on this planet. perhaps on Arcadia, they do. but not here in reality central)
Or the cards are completely stupid. With cartoon things on them that I guess are suppose to be animals. And they say some completely stupid things like:
“Some guys have fast cars. Some guys have big mansions. Some guys race fast boats. Some guys fuck 2 or 3 supremely amazing chicks at one time, and not have to pay them. But, not me. I have you.” Greeaaatttt!!!
You see where I’m comin’ from? Do you? DO YOU? You’re payin’ upwards of 5 bucks for shit I wouldn’t wipe my ass with. And of course, there’s a card for every fuck holiday imaginable. New Years, Valentine’s, St Patrick’s, Arbor Day, Columbus Day, Veteran’s Day, Street Walker’s Day. Give me a fucking break! Do you know they have the nerve to sell cards for your wife for your weddin’ day? Dang! Is that disturbin’ or what? Who the fuck is buyin’ their wife a card on their fucking wedding day? You? Was it you!?! I swear to the Christ. If I find out it was you, I’ll kick your lily white ass. No more promotin’ these stupid, no nothing holidays. Got it? But, I digress…I believe I was discussin’ the audacity of greeting card makers peddlin’ cards for spouses on their weddin’ days. You spend all this god damn time and money on a weddin’. You’ve just committed to spend the rest of your life not fucking another hot chick ever again. Does your new bride really need a card on top of that? I mean, isn’t that like rubbin’ salt in an open wound? I say yes!
Know why I’m so god damn poor? My pornography addiction? Taxes? No! It’s all the fucking cards I’ve gotta buy. I know, I know. I know what you’re thinkin’. “Why do you buy so many cards, Juice? You know you don’t have to buy a card for very holiday.” See, that’s where you’re wrong. Wrong, sir. Wrong! I do have to buy them. Why? Cause my fucking wife loves the cards. Loves ‘em! And don’t be sniggerin’. I know that your significant other loves greetin’ cards, just as much. Probably more. Nah. My wife loves ‘em more. Of course, she don’t like the funny ones, either. She likes the ones that no one could possibly feel that way about anythin', let alone another human being. I don’t feel that way about Cheetos, let alone my wife. Give me a break here. So beings the super genius I am, what do I do? I buy the token “serious” card and the one that describes somewhat closer to the way I feel about her. The “funny” card. Did you see what just happened there? I didn’t buy just one card. I bought 2. Two mother fucking cards. Two of them! TWO OF THEM!!! Two of them for every god damn occasion. Hallmark fucking loves that. They eat that shit up. God, I hate them! So why do I buy them? Why don’t I be more of a man? Cause I have to. Especially if I ever want to think about havin' sex again. With somethin’ beside ol’ Socky.
In closing, I’ve got four words for you: Fuck Hallmark!
Ever notice as you’re saunterin' on down the card aisle of your neighborhood Wal-Mart, or at your local money pit they call a card store, you can never find the right kind of cards? They’re either unrealistically sweet:
“To my sweetheart. My love for you is wider than the wettest ocean. Deeper than the deepest corn silo ever made. Blah, blah, blah…”
(ain’t nobody feels that way about nobody. i’m sorry. they fucking don’t. at least not on this planet. perhaps on Arcadia, they do. but not here in reality central)
Or the cards are completely stupid. With cartoon things on them that I guess are suppose to be animals. And they say some completely stupid things like:
“Some guys have fast cars. Some guys have big mansions. Some guys race fast boats. Some guys fuck 2 or 3 supremely amazing chicks at one time, and not have to pay them. But, not me. I have you.” Greeaaatttt!!!
You see where I’m comin’ from? Do you? DO YOU? You’re payin’ upwards of 5 bucks for shit I wouldn’t wipe my ass with. And of course, there’s a card for every fuck holiday imaginable. New Years, Valentine’s, St Patrick’s, Arbor Day, Columbus Day, Veteran’s Day, Street Walker’s Day. Give me a fucking break! Do you know they have the nerve to sell cards for your wife for your weddin’ day? Dang! Is that disturbin’ or what? Who the fuck is buyin’ their wife a card on their fucking wedding day? You? Was it you!?! I swear to the Christ. If I find out it was you, I’ll kick your lily white ass. No more promotin’ these stupid, no nothing holidays. Got it? But, I digress…I believe I was discussin’ the audacity of greeting card makers peddlin’ cards for spouses on their weddin’ days. You spend all this god damn time and money on a weddin’. You’ve just committed to spend the rest of your life not fucking another hot chick ever again. Does your new bride really need a card on top of that? I mean, isn’t that like rubbin’ salt in an open wound? I say yes!
Know why I’m so god damn poor? My pornography addiction? Taxes? No! It’s all the fucking cards I’ve gotta buy. I know, I know. I know what you’re thinkin’. “Why do you buy so many cards, Juice? You know you don’t have to buy a card for very holiday.” See, that’s where you’re wrong. Wrong, sir. Wrong! I do have to buy them. Why? Cause my fucking wife loves the cards. Loves ‘em! And don’t be sniggerin’. I know that your significant other loves greetin’ cards, just as much. Probably more. Nah. My wife loves ‘em more. Of course, she don’t like the funny ones, either. She likes the ones that no one could possibly feel that way about anythin', let alone another human being. I don’t feel that way about Cheetos, let alone my wife. Give me a break here. So beings the super genius I am, what do I do? I buy the token “serious” card and the one that describes somewhat closer to the way I feel about her. The “funny” card. Did you see what just happened there? I didn’t buy just one card. I bought 2. Two mother fucking cards. Two of them! TWO OF THEM!!! Two of them for every god damn occasion. Hallmark fucking loves that. They eat that shit up. God, I hate them! So why do I buy them? Why don’t I be more of a man? Cause I have to. Especially if I ever want to think about havin' sex again. With somethin’ beside ol’ Socky.
In closing, I’ve got four words for you: Fuck Hallmark!
posted by the Juice at 9:59 PM
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