Even Jesus had to walk his dog sometimes.
After I get home from school my dad likes me to walk my dog. That's all well and good, but if he has to do it there's a whole lot more shuffling and martyr talk than there needs to be. A little "Non si finisce mai"'s are murmured and he's out the door. I usually take one or two bags, but my dad stocks up like he's Forrest Gump doing a dog walk. He call me an optimist. The shit hasn't hit the fan yet.
Anyway.
Lately I've been popping Starbursts like painkillers. After Halloween I donated my candy to needy obese children, and it's really out of habit that I've been eating them. It's not even fun anymore.
This was the last panel for a Garfield comic a couple days ago. I don't know if it's funny because of what's going on, or that the Garfield Inc., Board of Trustees putting this together voted on it as the best possible option. It's not outright funny but because of how ass backwards grotesque it is. It looks like he got a wedgie so big that his back pockets are up on his shoulders.
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