For so many reasons, I hate Valentine's Day. Even though I currently have a sweet beau, my V-Day venom broils over. For one, the world would be much better off if self-worth was the standard, versus dependence on some prince/princess to bring happiness, status, red roses, and crappy non-fair trade chocolate packaged in huge heart-shaped containers making it appear as though you'll be set through menopause--when, upon opening it, you need a microscope to decipher a few lousy shards of cocoa...I'll quit now.
Buy your chocolate before prices sky-rocket, or wait for the after-V. Day sales.
I love you, my dear sillies, and I hope you liked this poem.
Much love to my sister-bloggy friend, Melissa Bradley. Her heart's huge; her sassy wit, remarkable; and Melissa writes the hottest erotica I've ever read. Please send healing thoughts her way. If it's your practice, prayers are requested. She's dealing with beastly news. We love you, Melly. We're cheering you on. You got this!
Take care of you, every one of you.
