Oh my god, it is Monday morning, and for some reason I agreed to write today’s “Fuck Mondays” last week. I’m not really sure why I agreed to do this, but I did, so here I am.

“Fuck Mondays”, as a column, isn’t really about anything, though, so it makes it a little easier on me. I’ve had a coffee, and my workload seems to be on the light side here in the office, so that’s a plus. I got a whole lot of work done this weekend on the comic book/web comic I have coming up soon (look for it here on 9to5.cc in the coming weeks), and it’s looking awesome. I guess everything is pretty good, at least in terms of being able to write something up for this column.

Except for inspiration. Three paragraphs in, and I have no idea what I’m writing about. And so, friends, I am forced to fall back on something more ridiculous. As such, I present to you a collection of images I have for whatever reason, saved on my hard drive here at the office.

Sa-Rah has a never ending battle against the English Language.

Nikki Lidstrom is the stuff of nightmares.

 

This is what happens if we use Garfeild dialogue on our classic strip. Garfeild is not funny.

 

This is a graphic of ten bloody axes. And one exclamation point.

 

This is me, at age 5, and my sister at age 2.

 

Keith had an imaginary band for a while. This was the imaginary album cover of their first album.

 

Never kiss a Flyers fan, even if she shaves her moustache.

 

I like Roller Derby.

 

Stan Lee. Yeah.

 

Chairman Mao, meet Chairman Meow.

 

Omega-3? Why not Omega Supreme!

 

Yes.

 

Alrighty then. Now, what have we learned, kids?

Don’t do drugs.

 

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