No, just kidding, I still hate you
So you may have noticed there are a lot of things I hate.
For example, people who hang around the food court and dress like the little brother of the fat bassist for "Eye Hate Lamb of God".
Here is a tip about eyeliner: less is more, Prince Ravenshadow!
Also I hate the man I live with.
Today he had the gas.
At first, I thought someone was burning band-aids.
I swear to god, it was like a Vietnam Flashback in here.
In case you have fucking forgotten, here is a brief history of things I hate, in a large picture-book format that you may cut out and color once the orderlies allow you to handle scissors again:
The Irish
Turtles
Cretins
However, the following is something I have only just discovered a blistering, seething hatred for:
Monkeys.
Oh yes. A fresh, new crime against little dogs.
To some, this may be a picture of my great-great-great-great grandmother "Gypsy Lee's Irascible Golden Pearl" and her 2 sisters doing some community service while on parole.
But I like to think of it as a monkey singing that old Depression Era tune:
"Please help, these chihuahuas are going to boil me in a vat of bleach or maybe feed me to some Hobos."
Get that fucking monkey, Grandma. Get him good.
Now I know what you are thinking.
"Peaches, it was just Valentine's Day! Where is the Love!?"
Normally, I would tell you that you are a wretched and infinite crap sack, and that your intestines would be better used to encase sausages.
But today, maybe not.
You know what I love?
Chicken Fingers.
I fucking love Chicken Fingers so much.
I love Chicken Fingers so much, that I would marry them, if they would have me.
Dear "The Colonel",
My name is Peaches, and I love your Chicken Fingers.
If you would give your fingers to me, I promise I would keep them in the style they are accustomed to.
Deep inside my stomach.
Cordially,
Peaches
For example, people who hang around the food court and dress like the little brother of the fat bassist for "Eye Hate Lamb of God".
Here is a tip about eyeliner: less is more, Prince Ravenshadow!
Also I hate the man I live with.
Today he had the gas.
At first, I thought someone was burning band-aids.
I swear to god, it was like a Vietnam Flashback in here.
In case you have fucking forgotten, here is a brief history of things I hate, in a large picture-book format that you may cut out and color once the orderlies allow you to handle scissors again:
The Irish
Turtles
Cretins
However, the following is something I have only just discovered a blistering, seething hatred for:
Monkeys.
Oh yes. A fresh, new crime against little dogs.
To some, this may be a picture of my great-great-great-great grandmother "Gypsy Lee's Irascible Golden Pearl" and her 2 sisters doing some community service while on parole.
But I like to think of it as a monkey singing that old Depression Era tune:
"Please help, these chihuahuas are going to boil me in a vat of bleach or maybe feed me to some Hobos."
Get that fucking monkey, Grandma. Get him good.
Now I know what you are thinking.
"Peaches, it was just Valentine's Day! Where is the Love!?"
Normally, I would tell you that you are a wretched and infinite crap sack, and that your intestines would be better used to encase sausages.
But today, maybe not.
You know what I love?
Chicken Fingers.
I fucking love Chicken Fingers so much.
I love Chicken Fingers so much, that I would marry them, if they would have me.
Dear "The Colonel",
My name is Peaches, and I love your Chicken Fingers.
If you would give your fingers to me, I promise I would keep them in the style they are accustomed to.
Deep inside my stomach.
Cordially,
Peaches