My thoughts on Valentine's Day? Love it! Just absolutely love it. I don't need a bid to enjoy V Day. It's honestly a day to go hard on the wheels. I sent carnations to four separate ladies. V Day is all about spreading the love where ever you can. If you are dating a chick, your day will be that much better. I agree that V Day is a marketing ploy. I agree that we should "love our sweetheart everyday of the year," but V Day isn't just another day. I view it as another anniversary. Why do couples do something special on their anniversary? Because it's a day that is focused on their relationship. If we ignore V Day because we should love our partner everyday, then we should say f*ck it to anniversaries. Also, just because I do something special for a girl on V Day, doesn't mean I don't love her every other day. V Day is just an excuse to pamper your darling, and honestly, if you truly care about them, it shouldn't be a bother.
Thursday, 16 February 2012
Wednesday, 8 February 2012
Flash Forward
I'm going to be a fugitive. I will have several warrants out for my arrest. This sounds bad, right? Well you see, I'm innocent. I was framed by Timmy T. Wilford. He actually killed Lady Henford, not I. I was just an unassuming postal worker trying to deliver a package. You see, Lady Henford was the sweetest lady on my route. She always brought a smile to my face. But little did I know, she was about to involve me in a massive scheme that would eventually lead to me hiding out in the basement of a store selling toilets. Shitty, I know.
Mr. Wilford sent her a package with a bomb in it, that I delivered. He said it was from her husband, Gerald G. Gilford. I believed him. Turns out she never married, and Mr. Gilford never existed. That left me as the prime suspect. So I ran. Far away. I now live in the basement of a store selling toilets.
That's where I'll be in twenty years.
In ten years I'll still be running for co prez...
Mr. Wilford sent her a package with a bomb in it, that I delivered. He said it was from her husband, Gerald G. Gilford. I believed him. Turns out she never married, and Mr. Gilford never existed. That left me as the prime suspect. So I ran. Far away. I now live in the basement of a store selling toilets.
That's where I'll be in twenty years.
In ten years I'll still be running for co prez...
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