Amicable separation

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Guy in red: “Look Steve, I’m sorry this ski trip didn’t turn out the way you planned, but I think it’s time we both realize that we don’t work as a couple any more.”

Guy in white: “I guess part of me knew it was over before I booked the tickets. I… I just thought that spending time together, away from everything, was the answer.”

Guy in red: “If it’s any consolation, I’ve really enjoyed this little vacation. These last few days have been a blast. I hope we can still be friends after this.”

Guy in white: “Of course we can still be friends. I mean, I’ll be posting horrible things about you on Facebook when we get back, and blaming you for the breakup,  but yeah, we’ll always be buddies.”

Guy in red: “Cool! Right after I Photoshop your head onto a picture of a Clydesdale’s rear-end, then post it on Instagram with the caption, ‘I finally ditched that horse’s ass,’ we should grab lunch.”

Guy in white: “Alright, but my treat!”

Guy in red: “You’re the best!”

 

GOBBLE GOBBLE!!

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You know what screams THANKSGIVING to me?
Random dinner rolls thrown haphazardly on some cheap, blue calico.

I mean, what was the art direction here?
“Just make it look like the aftermath of a food-fight. Oh, and toss in some ratty-looking fake plants while you’re at it. That’ll really drive home the seasonal point!”

And don’t even get me started on Tomi there;  although, I do appreciate the sitting on a nest AND being stuffed into a bread basket options they offer here.

Wait… bread basket…
Maybe… the turkey kicked out the rolls before settling into its new home?

IT ALL MAKES PERFECT SENSE NOW!!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, KIDS!!

Baby, it’s cold outside…

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I get that this is from the 70’s.
I get that crochet is a cherished art.
I get that people need to stay warm in winter.

I get it all, really I do, but at one point, what you’re making is so goddamn ugly that your best option might just be freezing to death.

One stitch at a time…

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As Tina looked down at her latest victim, the slight panting of his dying breath and low whimpers of , “please… no…” almost touched her frozen heart, as her walking stick swung hard against his skull, ending his life.

It was done.
The Promenade Killer had struck again.

Tina wished she could kill more than a few a year, but she vowed to only murder after knitting up a new coat from her Bear Brands pattern book.

Her quiet town was granted a reprieve this go-round, as her new crafting endeavor was a rather complex design.

As she struggled with the intricate pattern, Tina vowed the next one to fall would feel the full wrath of dropping her cable hook and losing a row.