My drug habit, my clandestine whore

I arrived bleary at work, this morning, after an ill-spent night. With photoshop. You may think the Internet is infinite. You don't know the depths of endlessness, the definition of obsessive codependency, until you have drunk of photoshop like fizzy punch at a high-school dance. Occasionally it pays dividends. This, for example, is worth it, to me. Is it offensive that a post titled "my clandestine whore" shows a picture of a dear old friend? Yeah. That's probably offensive. ..