There’s a woman I know who is intent on making me not like her simply by virtue of being too good at shit. Case in point, every Valentine’s Day she makes handmade valentines with personalized photos of her child attached to actual objects. Like, “I wheelie like you” with a toy car inserted into the photo of her kid’s hand. So now the other moms in the class are all making 30 twee personalized cards with rulers and play-doh and magnets on them and it’s raising the bar to impossible limits and I want to just be like “FOR FUCK’S SAKE, IT’S JUST VALENTINE’S DAY. COME ON.” But I don’t. Because that would be too obvious. That’s why this year I’m considering taking Valentine’s Day to the furthest logical conclusion so that these bitches (I mean that in a good way) can see what kind of a dangerous path they are paving. Here are the ideas I came up with for home-made V-Day cards with “sassy gifts”:
“You’re a shoe-in, Valentine” taped to a used flip-flop
“Bee mine” attached to a paper bag filled with live bees
“You’re a hoot, valentine” stapled to some dead owls
“I’m a sucker for you” pinned to vacuum bags filled with cat hair
“You’re quite a catch” tacked to a dead dolphin.
“Oh, me so horny” attached to bassoons.
“You rock my world” written on boulders.
“I don’t want to bug you, but be mine” stapled to ziplock bags filled with the dead bugs in my light fixtures.
“This may sound corny, but you’re the best” attached to an unshucked ear of corn.
“Be my honey-bunny” safety-pinned to some rabbit carcasses.
“I’m never ‘board’ with you, Valentine” nailed to a two by four.
“You’re a good egg, Valentine” wrapped around a raw egg.
“I’m stuck on you” taped to a baggie of used syringes
“Give me some sugar, Valentine” attached to a five pound bag of sugar
“I’m great, but you’re beta” stapled to a stack of obsolete Beta movies
“You light my fire” attached to a half-full butane tank
“Water You Doing For Valentine’s Day?” written on a full five-gallon water-cooler bottle with no lid.
“You’re my Valentine…No butts about it!” inside a mason jar full of cigarette butts.
“You’re Quite a Scoop!” stapled to baggies of used cat litter.
“You’re Hot, Valentine!” attached to a loaded flame-thrower.
And if that doesn’t work then next year I’m giving all the kids in Hailey’s class free kittens. Sick kittens. With diarrhea. Because that’s where we’re headed, people. And pretty soon you won’t be able to give away the kittens because every Valentine’s Day your kid will come home with 25 sick kittens from all the other kids in the class and then next year someone else will step it up to free monkeys and invariably a few of them will be fever monkeys from shoddy labs and they’ll bite the kids AND THAT’S HOW YOU GET ZOMBIES. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW, OVERCHIEVERS? MY DAUGHTER WANTS TO EAT BRAINS AND I HAVE 90 SICK CATS AND A FEVER MONKEY LOCKED IN THE CLOSET. THIS IS YOUR FAULT.
I’m going to go lie down now.