I'm the sort of responsible guy you could take back to your parent's trailer without police needing to get involved but that's only cause my Nanna raised me proper. I remember us sharing a tin of cat food one night and her telling me how 'chicks dig a romantic'. So fellers - take note.
Greetings from London! On Wednesdays I like to post an older card and then spend the day working as a cryptozoologist. I spent the day lurking in the shadows of Paddington Station, hoping to spot an upright walking bear believed to be from Darkest Peru. I'm not very good at cryptozoology.
Today is re-hash Wednesday; I post an older card and then ever so slightly exaggerate my plans for the rest of the afternoon. By the way, I hope today's card doesn't discourage anyone. Frankly, I hope it inspires a certain spirit of scientific inquiry.
So, what did you do today? I drew a smurf. What?! Yeah - a smurf. Damn, man. Yeah I know - keep me in your prayers.
I'd protest this holiday. And on the burning barricades I'd chant at police and hurl Molotovs. And then? I'd fall beneath the bejeweled jackboots of St. Valentines Day thugs, wielding their guilt trips and demanding their chocolate boxes and heart-shaped cards. So if anyone needs me I'll be at the florists. Muttering to myself.
I've given it a lot of thought and decided that today's wrongcard is an awesome card to send to a stranger. Pick someone random, someone you barely know, and ask yourself: why SHOULDN'T that person have a really weird Friday? No need to thank me - this is what I do for a living.
I suspect that today's wrongcard may be a little Not Safe For Work though I'm not sure or good at judging that sort of thing. It's a WTF card, though, which means it is probably more impractical than usual. It's a pity that 'cards that are wrong for every occasion' is such an impractical idea. Next time I start a company I'll do a business plan.
Anyone who read Wuthering Heights knows that Heathcliff rifled about with Cathy's corpse exactly twice. Linton was immune to such passion, of course, and this is why women always prefer Heathcliff, or any wild-eyed savage who'd cuddle a lady's corpse just for the sake of nostalgia. It's called being romantic, fellers. Pay attention to Wrongcards and I'll teach you all about it.
The thing about eels is that they really are impossible to feel neutral about. You might think you like them a lot, say, when you're eating them in a Japanese restaurant. But face to face with them in an ocean, you will have one just thought - that thing is so ugly it is practically anathema.