We like texture

Hello.

It is just past 1 AM and I know my fate. I will write greeting cards for twenty years at least, to keep the tax collectors, loan officers and Jehova zombies at bay.

Yes, greeting cards. A world where fame and charity are entirely different concepts. The thoughtless consumption of countless bored airheads. It smells good from here, I can say that much.

Anyway, my first card:

Get really well mommy, because we only miss you with arms

Yes, I know. *blush* I just happen to be good at this kind of thing. I got +20 greeting card points when Big G decided that "woah there, Niel, I can't make you good at writing essays in a logical, structured fashion, so how about being good at foosball? And oh, greeting cards. You'll send me some, won't you?".

I sure will, big G. The one that reads:

"Violets are blue, roses are red, I'm considering alternatives, like Krishna, instead"

Clapping somewhere? No, that's the sound of me rolling down the stairs.

I had a bad day.


Hey man, I'll buy your cards if you'll be one of those people standing at the entrance of malls, pestering every passer-by with "buy my cards for a good cause, pl..." - the good cause being your pocket, of course - and only because you stopped BELIEVING... in your career as a bad-ass Big J.

Media tour heals all...
 gm  


Oh no! Fortunately there is a greeting card for just such an occasion:


Sorry to hear about your trip down the stairs. Get really well soon!

And oh yeah, essays, schmessays. Who reads those things? No one. Not even the prof.
 C  


Are you still alive, Niel?
 C  


Dear neighbor who I have never met but have seen your car a thousand times. Sorry it looks like something bad must have happened at your house because I thought I saw an ambulance. Guess I could have called you, but we have never met!
**Niel***you git up offa da flo' honey!
 ~d  


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