The Ides Of February
First and foremost, I think it is crucial that you know that I am suffering from salmonella poisoning. I wish I were just trying to be funny. The source: peanut butter. Delicious, creamy Peter Pan.
I had big plans to do a little Stacey Loves Me Two Year Anniversary Retrospective yesterday, but alas, I failed you. The good news, you should be getting used to it by now.
I think the fact that I started my blog on Valentines Day is a tiny little indication of how I'm the least romantic lady on earth. I'm such a guy in that department. I really can't even remember celebrating a Valentine's Day before.
But now, as a married woman, it isn't just about me anymore. I have a husband to take care of. So I wrote a little poem (Here's a little excerpt:
Dear honey,
I love you more than money,
Even if you were poor,
I'd still be your whore.
I love your sexy body,
Even when you are sitting on the potty,
I still think you are a hottie)
I filled the bathtub with bubbles and rose petals, made chocolate covered strawberries, and then somehow got stuck babysitting Dee's two bad kids all evening. Now that's Romance!
Try not to be jealous.
And if any of you have any birthdays, anniversaries or special occasions coming up and you want me to write a romantic poem for you, just let me know!
As it seems, celebrating Valentine's Day is not the only change that matrimony will bring to Hot Lips' life. There are a few more changes coming our way, including but not limited to: the building of a new house (so if any of you have any swamp land you want to sell me, now's the time), extrication from my job (just as soon as I learn how to quit a job when you own the company, until then, I'll just have to cut back my hours) and maybe, if I play my cards right, the adoption of a disadvantaged, black youth.
I had big plans to do a little Stacey Loves Me Two Year Anniversary Retrospective yesterday, but alas, I failed you. The good news, you should be getting used to it by now.
I think the fact that I started my blog on Valentines Day is a tiny little indication of how I'm the least romantic lady on earth. I'm such a guy in that department. I really can't even remember celebrating a Valentine's Day before.
But now, as a married woman, it isn't just about me anymore. I have a husband to take care of. So I wrote a little poem (Here's a little excerpt:
Dear honey,
I love you more than money,
Even if you were poor,
I'd still be your whore.
I love your sexy body,
Even when you are sitting on the potty,
I still think you are a hottie)
I filled the bathtub with bubbles and rose petals, made chocolate covered strawberries, and then somehow got stuck babysitting Dee's two bad kids all evening. Now that's Romance!
Try not to be jealous.
And if any of you have any birthdays, anniversaries or special occasions coming up and you want me to write a romantic poem for you, just let me know!
As it seems, celebrating Valentine's Day is not the only change that matrimony will bring to Hot Lips' life. There are a few more changes coming our way, including but not limited to: the building of a new house (so if any of you have any swamp land you want to sell me, now's the time), extrication from my job (just as soon as I learn how to quit a job when you own the company, until then, I'll just have to cut back my hours) and maybe, if I play my cards right, the adoption of a disadvantaged, black youth.
@ 7:46 PM
4 Comments:
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You keep posting stuff like this and I'll start to think you're really married.
Stop it.
I must have missed something in the back issues ... You're married to Big Daddy now?
I'll give you a call this weekend (just a heads up so you know NOT to answer the phone!) just to chat. I hope you're feeling better.
Also, I hope my Peg Bundy ("Married, With Children") image and reference to you wasn't insulting -- it was meant to be funny and you seem to have a good sense of humor about things like that.
wait you're not married? not my business, anyway. But really, I hope you feel better after Peter Pan's lovely surprise. Do you need some fairy dust to ease the pain? (sorry, couldn't resist.)
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