Stay Away From the Raisins

While I was perusing my boxes of floppy disks I should toss out I found the utterly charming candy on the left. I'm wishing I'd found it way the hell back in Feb. when all that sickening Valentine's rubbish was floating around. It's sort of the sentiment I feel every Valentine's Day.

It's the sorta thing I'd love to have printed up to present to my nearest and dearest, whoever the hell they tend to be. I could even just hand them out in clubs to random guys. It would save loads of time and money in the end, and we could just cut to the chase and end up with a crying guy, rather than go through the trouble of arguing, breaking all his stuff, restraining orders, lawsuits--then still wind up with a crying guy. See, when you think I'm just being a cheap, evil bitch I'm really just being practical.

On to Easter. I think that's the holiday when Jebus rolls back the rock from his tomb, sees his shadow and we have six more weeks of winter. (pause) You think I'm going to Hell? I've already bought lakefront property there. Next time tell me something I don't know.

This cute little guy here on the left is the reason I was rummaging around in dusty old floppy disks. It's the Easter Bunny, all ready to lay yummy chocolate eggs in your Easter basket! Isn't he sweet? The tentacles around his mouth make him look a bit like Cthulu. He's also got cloven hooves. Don't get me started on the eyes. The eyes!!!

Remember, the Easter Bunny knows where you live. Sometime tonight he'll break into your house and leave a basket full of goodies--for no real reason that I can figure out. I think good little kids get chocolate and he just takes a big ol' steaming dump in the baskets of bad little kids. I'd be a bit wary of eating any chocolate-covered raisins you find piled up in your basket sans wrapper tomorrow morning.

So what's the deal with Easter anyhow? There's some guff about mutant rabbits that lay chocolate eggs that hatch into Marshmallow Peeps. People buy stupid frilly hats and wander around wearing them in public. Parents dress their kids up like complete dorks and drag them to church. Dozens of helpless eggs get boiled, painted, kicked around in the yard, then thown in the trash. Seems a bit pointless if you ask me.

Personally, I stay home and wait for it all to blow over, then on Monday morning the Cadbury's Creme Eggs are half price.