I Might Be Taking This Badly

It has now been three days since my Lord and Savior Brett Favre announced his retirement.

This blows.

Fuck. I need to talk to someone...


Me: Oh shit. Hello Map Of The Upper Midwest With A Red Dot Indicating The Location Of Green Bay, WI.

Map: Yeah, what the fuck? Why are you bitching about Brett Favre? You see how Tennessee kinda looks like my cock? Yeah? It is. And Brett Favre can fucking eat it.

Me: Holy fuck. I had no idea that a jpg. image of a fucking map could talk. How come you're such a dick? Brett Favre has influenced my life more than Jesus. If I saw him in public and his shoe was untied, I would gladly volunteer to bend down and tie it, lest he injure himself and miss his first game ever. Now I have nothing!

(Quiet sobbing)

Map: Eat my Western Illinois asshole! Shut the fuck up. Brett Favre is more synonymous with Green Bay than the actual fucking city is with itself. If you search Green Bay on GIS I'm the first return followed by 9 million photos of Brett fucking Favre. That guy was everywhere. I can't take him anymore.

Me: I'm going to light you on fucking fire.

Map: How do you plan on doing that you sheep humping dumbshit? I'm a fucking picture. On your fucking computer. Does any of this register with you?

(Looking up through red, tear filled eyes)

Me: I don't know. I just...




Me: Don't fuck with me. I won't stand for anyone speaking ill of Brett Favre.

Me: Damn. That was cool.

Me: How did I just do that?




Please come back Brett.

Please.