Faux Fur For Sure

 

If there’s one thing I love in life (you know, besides God, Joel, my friends, my family, my job, etc.) it’s animals. I love animals so much. I love furry animals, scaly animals, and slimy animals; you name it I love it.

That being said, I also love to eat animals. Furry animals, scaly animals, and slimy animals; you name it, I eat it. I want to be a vegetarian, I’ve tried so hard, but somehow bacon always finds it way into my mouth. Do you think I think about Sir Pierre Pigsby, the mini pig my BFF gave me for my 22nd birthday but had to eventually sell because he kept pooping in my sister’s room, every time I eat a pulled pork taco? I don’t. AT LEAST I’M NOT EATING DOGS, OKAY?!

As a way to clear my conscience, because so so many cows have fallen to the fate of my fork, I have made the important life decision to forgo fur. I’m faux fur fo sure.  It’s the least I can do. Also, I can’t afford real fur. You’re welcome, rabbits of the world.

 

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Thank you, Laura The Band Wife Gummerman for taking a stand with me against fur. Now let’s go get a burger.

 

 

Before anyone decides to send our names in to PETA as goodwill ambassadors to animals, know that Laura and I both own leather jackets (sorry again, cows) and that I am first in line to receive my grandmother’s Mink when she dies, and that will be about the time that I forget I ever had anything against wearing real fur. So was this blog post just some cheap ploy to get you to look at pictures of Laura and I being cute and blonde? Was that not obvious from the get go?

 

 

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Oh yeah, we also have matching pink feather jackets, made with real turkey feathers. I’m just going to assume that when everyone was eating turkey for Thanksgiving, JOA was working very hard to use all of the otherwise useless feathers to make these. Whatever, it ain’t fur.

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