valentine nuttiness

Happy Valentine’s Day, inklings.

I say that a bit tongue-in-cheek. The husband and I do cards and sort-of flowers: He brings them home, gives them to me, and then they live in the bathroom behind closed doors because Pippin thinks they’re her salad. Some years we go out on a Valentine’s date, but it doesn’t always work out. Especially since there’s now a kiddo involved. 😉

Me, I can’t quite get past the origins of Valentine’s Day, which have nothing to do with romance and everything to do with death. Even so, I still like to have fun with it. So, in the spirit of that, here are some of my poetic Valentine’s Day tweets from this morning. Just goofy stuff, but I hope they give you a chuckle. Some feature favorite movie and TV characters!

Courtney’s Twitter-Ode to Romance

Roses are red
Violets aren’t blue
I think you’re cute
Here, have a gnu

Roses are red
Cat noses pink
Cats don’t care about
Valentines, I think

Roses in bed
Breakfast in vases
Makes for the very
Oddest of cases

Roses blood-red
Spiders can bite
Here’s to delicious
Halloween frights

Wait, what?

Noses are red
Fingers are cold
This winter weather
Is getting so old

Except here in Oklahoma, where we’re having spring temps

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Just like your fingers
I chopped up for stew

Roses are red
Star Wars is cool
Scrappy young Rey
Ain’t nobody’s fool

Roses are red
Star Trek is neat
Riker likes Troi
So he turns on the heat

Roses are red
Thor wants “ANOTHER!”
Gets dirty looks
From Loki, his brother

Except SPOILER ALERT Loki is actually a frost giant

Roses are red
Dean loves him some pie
Winchesters go hunting
And monsters will die

[Dean randomly dies in the shower again]

Roses are red
USA has no luck
#Election2016
Already sucks

Roses are red
#amwriting is fun
But I need time away
Out in the sun

preferably in Maui

Roses are red
My final decision:
Netflix has ruined me
For normal television

TAH-DAH. 😉

If you enjoyed that and want more, I got really into the characters part of it all and wrote a Valentine Ode to Villains. Since Valentine’s Day has upon it the stain of death and evil and whatnot. 😉

Arachnophobia

It was this big. I swear.

It was this big. I swear.

Me: Horror is feeling a tickle on your thumb and looking down to see a spider crawling on it.

Ed: Did that happen?

Me: Yes.

Ed: To you?

Me: Yes.

Ed: Just now?

Me: Yes.

Ed: I apologize.

Me: Thank you. Now kill this earwig for me.

________________________

(This is not to diminish what’s going on in my city right now. I needed a moment of comic relief.)

In Which I Play with Sharp Objects

Me: I really shouldn’t be allowed to use knives at all.

Ed: Why do you say that?

Me: Well, if I’d been using the Cutco or a Pampered Chef knife, I would’ve sliced my finger wide open just now.

Ed: You really shouldn’t do things like that.

Me: I know. It’s like my life isn’t already interesting enough or something.

The Realities of the Zombie Apocalypse

Me: You know what the worst loss of the zombie apocalypse will be?

Ed: What?

Me: Chocolate. Eventually, we’re going to run out of chocolate.

Ed: Um.

Me: No, really. People will raid and loot stores. Eventually there won’t be any chocolate left at all.

Ed: Okay.

Me: And cocoa beans don’t grow here. We’ll have to go south.

Ed: Okay.

Me: We’ll have to make our way to Brazil. To find the cocoa beans.

Ed: I’m tired.

Me: You think I’m mentally unstable, don’t you?

Ed: Sometimes, yes, I do.

Me: I just want to make sure we can have chocolate.

Ed: I’m going to bed.

Hypocrisy in Marriage: A Horror Story

SCENE:
The Cantrells’ living room. The Cantrells are sitting on their couch. Ed is on the phone with Scott. Courtney (aka Me) is on the phone with her mother (aka Mama). Across from the couch, the TV is on. The sound is muted.

Mama: And we’re shopping on Friday?

Me: Yes. At the outlet mall.

(Ed picks up remote to change channel.)

Me: Wait! Don’t change it yet. I wanna see Miss Oklahoma.

Mama: What are you watching?

Me: It’s some beauty pageant. They’re showing contestants from each state.

Ed: It’s the Miss America contest.

Me: Ed says it’s Miss America.

Scott: You’re watching what?

Ed: We’re watching the Miss America pageant.

Me: Don’t tell people that! You don’t tell people we’re watching Miss America! What is wrong with you?!

Mama: But you are watching it.

Scott: If I were there with you and saw that, I would kill myself.

Me: We’re not watching it, it’s just on. I wanna see Miss Oklahoma, then we’re turning it off.

Ed: I really don’t know why we’re watching this.

Scott: Knowing it’s on, I might just drive in front of this train and kill myself.

Courtney: I can’t believe you’re telling people we’re watching Miss America. There is something wrong with you.

(Ed ignores me. He and Scott begin discussing man things.)

Me: There’s Nevada. And now New Hampshire.

Mama: Oh, you’re almost there, then.

Me: Yeah, but we have to get through all the “News” now. New Jersey, New Mexico…

(Ed and Scott continue discussing man things.)

Mama: What channel?

Me: Channel 4. Okay, there goes Ohio…and there’s Oklahoma.

Mama: Oh, I just missed her.

Me: She’s pretty. I didn’t like her dress, though.

(Ed stands up and walks toward kitchen, still discussing man things with Scott. TV remote remains at other end of couch from Me.)

Me: Wait, where are you going? I can’t reach the remote. Change the channel before you leave! I’m not watching this!

Gettin’ Dirty

Yesterday, the husband worked at digging up the small trees rooted in our flowerbeds. I sat on the porch and watched and kept him supplied with ice water.

At one point, he stopped digging, leaned on his shovel, and said, “You know, for the first time in our lives, we’re living out the divine prediction for male-female roles after the Fall.”

I cocked my head. “You mean, I’m pregnant and uncomfortable, and you’re out here toiling in the soil?”

“Yup.”

I grinned and nodded at the hole he’d dug. “How’s the toiling part workin’ out for ya?”

He grinned back. “I hate it.”

I laughed.

Marital Sock Fetish, Exposed*

So, this happened:

Me: Here, these socks don’t match.

Ed, The Husband: Okay, give ’em to me.

Me: Wait. What are you doing?

Ed: …Rolling my socks.

Me: But they don’t match.

Ed (looks at mismatched socks, looks at Me): So?

Me: So, you can’t wear mismatched socks!

Ed (looks at mismatched socks, looks at Me): Why not?

Me: Because you can’t!

Ed: But I do all the time. Lots of my socks don’t match.

Me: But doesn’t that drive you crazy?!

Ed (pauses): No. They’re in my boots.

Me: How can that not drive you crazy? Don’t you feel that they’re mismatched?

Ed: Um. No.

Me (triumphantly): But you know it!

Ed: For maybe 15 minutes. But then I forget about it.

Me: How can you forget about it?

Ed (shrugs): They’re in my boots.

Me: But there are mismatched socks in your boots!

Ed (tilts head): I’m not looking at them.

Me: There is something wrong with you.

Ed (grins): There’s something wrong with your mom.

Me: There’s something wrong with your face.

Ed: That’s not very nice.

Me: And you wear mismatched socks!

We have a very mature relationship.

*Okay, so not really. I was just trying to come up with a funny post title and have totally hoodwinked you into thinking I was being kinky. Mea culpa.