Valentine's, schmalentine's
I have never been able to write a Valentine's Day card that I was even remotely happy with. It's something about being sentimental on command, I think, that just stifles me.
Doesn't mean the love's not there; faithful readers of my old blog know all about the mad love I've got for C. It's a wonder the man puts up with me, but he does, probably because he was dropped on his head as a child. Thank God for my butterfingers mother-in-law.
But Eden over at Fussy wrote what might be the perfect Valentine's Day message for me and C, and so I quote it here, and will be stealing it later today:
Doesn't mean the love's not there; faithful readers of my old blog know all about the mad love I've got for C. It's a wonder the man puts up with me, but he does, probably because he was dropped on his head as a child. Thank God for my butterfingers mother-in-law.
But Eden over at Fussy wrote what might be the perfect Valentine's Day message for me and C, and so I quote it here, and will be stealing it later today:
Roses are red,
Violets are blue
I know I'm a pain in the ass
But then, so are you
posted by Brooke at 11:51 AM
1 Comments:
I found the *perfect* card last year, which read as follows:
Do you love me the same way I love you?
You do?
...Pervert.
J still has it proudly displayed on his dresser.
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