A Card With Some Money

I hate tangible gifts. I want something finite that I can throw away or throw away on booze and cigarettes. So when my girlfriend asserted that I must want SOMETHING for my bday, all I could aid her with was a list of Don'ts.

She said she thought my love for her gift would transcend my aversion to said don'ts. Which I could have played along with, had she said that BEFORE I took a huge shit all over her gift.

Where I've argued that the term Bitchiness technically is separate from calling the subject a bitch- she was able to apply my logic towards NOT calling me a deuce bag (technically.)

So I got to roll stag for the first few hours of my special day.



Fuck my life; Look what my Mom got me.






I shit you not, that's really what she got me. Two of them.


It's a quintessential example of how I, at 27 years old, fucking hate receiving gifts.

My mom thought that I could create one of those magical moments where you're on a date and find two hoppity balls in the street, by just showing up with them- pre inflated- in the back seat of my car.

I do not jest; my sister told me so.



That explains the fucking color scheme.






My sister told me that my mom literally said "Maybe they can bounce 'em down the block- or around the mall."


The fucking MALL?????


I wonder where she got that idea.