PAY IT FORWARD: God Is Angry
Happy Friday, Internet! I hope it is going well. And I hope you’re prepared to have your day ruined by these inane fucking forwards, because it’s about to get incredibly annoying up in here.
I’m not sure what it is about angels and forwards, but just about every other forward I receive has an angel pictured or mentioned in it somewhere. It seems as though people think if they slap an angel on some shit, it somehow adds legitimacy – when really, they’re probably just royally pissing off God.
This short (but horrendous) forward came to me courtesy of Mermanda, but I continue to love her anyway.
Way to neglect to insert a period after “windfall,” making it look like all you have to do is delete this shit to get rich, which is exactly what I did. I’ll take my unHYPHENexpected windfall in tens and twenties, please.
Also, that is not an angel. It’s a damn fruit fly. Gross.
Next up, we have a little gem from 4th Reader. I went ahead and forwarded it to the American Cancer Society in lieu of a donation, because – as you’ll see – we’ve got the motherfucking cure to cancer in the house!
This image actually sparkled – OH, DID IT SPARKLE – but you’ll have to be brave little soldiers and just try to imagine it in its full be-sparkled glory. I am trying to understand how this particular collage of items came to be. It saddens me to think that someone, somewhere woke up one morning and thought “Find me butterflies, a pocket watch, two pamphlets of vaguely demonic-looking gibberish, daisies, a book, and a thank-you card! ART IS HAPPENING TODAY!”
WHOA. Wait: the purpose of the image above was to segue into cancer talk? Cancer of the what? Leatherbound books? Rich mahogany?
Also, please do God a solid and put a little more effort into your prayer. You’re asking for the end of cancer; you might want to sound a little less like Judy Blume.
And no, I don’t know what the fuck the “In Amen” sentence fragment is about. This shit is just plain lazy, and it’s obvious God agrees, because he is still sticking to Plan Cancer.
[Super-scientific “93%”statistic courtesy of someone’s Grandma on a library computer.]
And finally, as if God wasn’t pissed off enough already, we have something I was lucky enough to receive in complete earnestness from someone who probably didn’t mean to ruin my morning (but did anyway). This one is of the “Kids say the darnedest things!” ilk, which OH SWEET LORD IN KNEE SOCKS I cannot stand. I realize I’ve been made to eat my words when it comes to plenty of things I thought I’d never do/enjoy/find cute, and I’m sure I’ll blather on to you guys about the funny stuff Sadie says when she starts to talk, but I promise none of it will be this horrifically lame. These remind me of the crap I find in my mother-in-law’s Woman’s Day magazines that I always read when I’m at her house, specifically for the disgustingly satisfying picking-at-a-scab sensation that they bring. Behold:
I’m sure I don’t need to tell you, but there is no joy to be discovered here. Unless your version of joy leaves you with the distinct urge to vomit.
There were a bunch of these little vignettes, but I am only including the best, like this one. I am imagining “Clinton” up there was actually Bill Clinton himself, because I don’t know any other 5-year-old who worries about how he will be able to comfortably bang his future wife.
“Haha, OK, honey. Mommy’s going to go sit behind a locked door and call a few boarding schools now.”
Anyone feeling joy yet? No? Just rage? Yeah, me too.
That’s all for today, Internet. Now go buy some heavily discounted Halloween candy and enjoy your weekend.
Would never say “butt dust.”
(“Ass dust,” maybe.)
Entry filed under: PAY IT FORWARD!.