Stupid Cupid
I don't need an extra special day of hearts and a fat little man-child in diapers shooting arrows to say I love you. Tuesday of any week suits me fine.
DO NOT buy me roses.
One, they're urbane, predictable and reek of douchebaggery.
Two, the flower brainiacs over at Greedyville are laughing all the way to the bank at the $150 you laid down on their cheesy perennial shrub.
No fancy dinner at Chez Drop It Like It's Hot. Again...urbane and predictable, and not my style.
No silly card that sings Unchained Melody when I open it. Please have an original thought. Regurgitating is wretched.
No giant upholstered box of candy. I will cry. Do you realize how many miles that is at the gym?!?!
Random and quirky. Thankfully, my husband celebrates and accepts this. He gave me flip flops on Thursday, wrapped in Christmas paper. Yep....he gets me.♥
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