Thursday, 12 December 2013

A Quiet PostSecret

It's been a quiet and reflective few days. All the insanity of Christmas, all the inanity of Christmas, when the marketeers try to flog useless shit to girls and mangina's without a clue.

So, here is the latest interlude of PostSecret. My sarcasm-and-bile glands have shut down pretty-much, overwhelmed by the Raping of Christmas™.

Chick swinging from dick to dick, getting a firm grip on the next before releasing the last. He should have suggested an affair instead. Yes this "good match" is also perishable.

Captain Save-A-Ho to the rescue. She probably bore the rapist's child.

Fatty, you better thin down and pretty-up.

One second of truth, revealed by the hamster. PMS does not exist, it's just an excuse to act out: a couple hundred years ago it would have been quickly cured with a beating to within an inch of her life.

One delusional second of truth revealed by the hamster.

Achievement Unlocked: Removing ex-hubby from the children's minds.

Creepy cutter-chicks.


Rationalization about consumerism and wasting money on nonessentials at its finest.

Of course it didn't, creepy cutter-chick.

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