PolkOut.com cares!

To...an appropriate extent.

If you can't read the dialogue, here's what it says:

Page 1: "Thank you for not drinking or smoking crack prior to my birthday."

Page 2: "I'll extent you the same favor.  Love, your temporarily crack-free son."  With a word bubble, "NO CRACK TODAY, it's my mom's birthday!"

In hindsight, I f!cked up the your and wrote you're...I know the difference.  Sh!t, I even wrote it's--I know how to use apostrophes.  And before all you sentimentalists start comparing me to Hitler for not coloring in the card, well, my printer's only black and white, so all that would've done was made the card a crap-load grayer.

Anyway, so yeah, it was my mom's birthday.  Every year it's a f!cking game because my family is seriously mentally ill.  According to their own rules, in the twisted game that they play, they're forbidden from telling me when anybody's birthday is, and if I forget, or get confused and am off by a day, they're given full freedom to flip out and start hysterically listing all the reasons why I'm a douchebag.

Thankfully, that didn't happen this year.  My sanity was spared because I remembered.  Well...almost.  Here's a little dialogue of what went down:

Me: Is today mom's birthday?

Gramps: No, it's tomorrow.  Did you make her anything?

Me: Make her something?!  When have I ever made anything?

Gramps: Draw her a card or something.

Me: Have you seen the sh!t I draw?!

Gramps: Just shut up and do it.

Oh, and in case any of you thought this card was too weird or offensive or something, my mom thought it was cool.  Or at least she was grateful I remembered...whatever, the point is, she looked satisfied.  So there.

And one more thing: I went to my local pharmacy to actually buy a card, because I knew I couldn't draw anything wholesome or adorable, and the card selection was ridiculous; wall after wall covered in cards, like Joyce Clyde Hall stumbled in drunk and just vomited all over the place.  But none of them were funny.  What kind of sh!t passes for humor these days?!  I should start my own greeting card business, and put something out on the market that doesn't make me want to gouge my own eyes out.  Who's with me? 

--End Transmission--