We're kinda broke around our household and I can't afford alot, so my Valentine's gift to my wife will be me telling her how much I love her here on my blog. She should know I love her alot but just to cover my ass, I want to say that I love you sweetie and Hallmark Cards can lick my balls.
There's only one woman I've ever truly loved and that's my wife Kathleen (sorry Mom but you weaned me off the breast too early - according to Dr. Ettinger). Kathleen is the Bee's Knees, the Cat's Pyjamas, the Show and Tell, the Albino's Wine, the Chicken's Spit, the Bridge Over the River Kwai, and also the best lay I've ever had (honest honey, you are!). One time, our sex was soo good that when I tried to stand up afterward, my knees gave out and I fell right into the lifeguard on duty at the pool. (Wacka wacka wacka)
Holding her hand as we walk down the street on a Sunday afternoon is probably the greatest feeling for me. It's like I'm saying, "Hey losers, look at me! I got the hottest chick in the world and she's touching my hand! What do you say to that, freak-faces?" Then I spit at the people as they pass because they suck and I have a woman that makes me a better person.
We have two beautiful children together. They're both boys. They laugh when I make fart noises with my armpit. So does Kathleen. It's when I make the fart noises out of the spot where genuine fart noises eminate that she gets pissed off but that's understandable. I mean, I'm trying hard not to grab her hair and pull her face to my buttocks region, but it's hard not to when you're me and trust me, I'm me. How come Hallmark doesn't have Dutch Oven Valentine's card? I know why they don't, it's because they're too busy lickin my balls.
My wife sings nicely but she doesn't think she can sing at all. She should be on American Idol. Then when she gets to the audition, she can lez out with Paula Abdul and we'll have it on tape and replay it. Or she can make out with that large African American feller, whats-his-face, and I won't ever replay it until he's brought up on sexual assault charges and we can sue and I can buy her a proper Valentine's present. She won't "git wit" Simon though because we've talked it over and I won't stand for it! He's a limey, you know.
So lick my balls, Hallmark! I won't be buying any of your cards this year because I believe I've just said everything I've wanted to say to the most precious woman on the planet, here in my blog today. And it didn't cost me a friggin' dime!
In conclusion, I just want to say with sincere love (geez, I'm getting teary eyed now), I love you Kathleen and lick my balls Hallmark.
K, lick my balls Hallmark. Just lick 'em. Num num.
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3 comments:
Oh no. This simply will not do. Get thee to thine local jeweler, or florist, with utmost haste, lest you find yourself tomorrow inflicted with Thee Blue Balls.
I beseech thee fair lady of Eastern lands, how does one increase one's financial shortcummings in such a tiny amount of time? These "blue balls" of which you speak have visted my father and my father's father yet I have remained unscathed thus far. To hear them speak of it was to hear demons at the altar! Please, enlighten me! I beg of thee!!
Verily, I recommend thee to Ye Olde Pawne Shoppe, wherest though may barter with the kind Master therein, a precious bauble of some value in exchange for tuppence.
Hock a few video games, sir.
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