When one is forced to venture out into the sunlight on the day of Christ's death, is there anything other to do than take mopey pictures in every cemetery we can find? Not if your Misery and Tragedy, goddamnit! Now you kill your bunnies and climb that tree or ELSE!
I don't really smoke as much as it seems from all the pictures. I swear.
The Muffin died for your sins... in his pajamas! Do you know how early you have to get up to die for someone's sins! Worship him already people!
You're going to smoke yourself into an early grave, you sloth picture deleting bastard!
Now, I'm not ripping off Muffin. We're merely being twinnish. Really. I promise. Look! A moose!
"We're human right? Technology!" News flash... a belt does not a grappling hook make and I have a boot imprint in my thigh from hoisting you into that tree. Dick.
Squirrel.
