Do you love it when people call Valentine’s Day, “VD”? If you do, then clearly you were in my all-girls-Catholic-High-School sex ed class with one Ms. Jean Constantino. It’s where I learned all about how having sex while unmarried leads to transmitting venereal diseases, or “VD” and/or getting pregnant. Incidentally, it’s also where I learned how to drive, when health class became “Driver’s Ed” for a few weeks during junior year. In Driver’s Ed we learned that all truck drivers are on methamphetamines and by being on the road with them, you are trespassing at their work place. So be careful. Because they are hopped up on speed and want to kill you to get you off the road. Also, check under your car every time you approach it, because there is most likely a psychopath underneath who will slash your achilles heel and rape you. Ah memories. I miss Jean. Also, floor hockey. Naturally, she was our gym teacher, too.
Anyway, getting back to hearts and flowers. I was *thisclose* to being stood up on VD. Can you imagine? I mean, I thought for sure one of the upsides of being married was so that things like that didn’t happen to me anymore. I mean, how embarrassing! Luckily, we just got a later than anticipated start. Dinner wasn’t totally ruined. And I was still able to snarf down a couple of test brownies before I served them to my Valentine. What we do for love, eh?
Anywho, Kase may have been late, but he knew better than to show up empty handed:
Hope you all had a fabu and VD-less VD!