You can imagine how much I enjoy it when people mispronounce it "Valentimes," so Marvin is always sure to write that in my card each year. Have I mentioned how easy I am to irk?
Also too, one of my old boyfriends taught him how if you just hover your finger over my arm, like you're about to tap me, OH JUST WRITING IT IRRITATES THE CRAP OUT OF ME! UGH.
I HAAAAAATTTTTTTEEEEE being tapped on the arm. Do I know why? No. And why is it if you tell someone you hate something they are compelled to then do it as often as possible?
"Please don't call me 'Mike.' I really prefer 'Michael.'"
You know you do it. Everyone does it. Why are we all like that? I don't know.
Anyway, my dinner partayyy was fun. I dropped one of the three layers of my key lime cake, because what I am is excellent in the kitchen.
And I know it totally looks like a broccoli casserole or something. Girlfriend was green. It was a tangy ding-dang cake. But it was good. As we were eating it, Marty Martin said, "You know what would have made this even better? That third layer."
Have I brought up the part where everyone is a comedian?
So we had a good time, and Winston and Henry jumped on our guests' laps right there at the dinner table, but fortunately they are cat people so it was okay. I do not mean that they are half cat/half people.
I told my mother today that Marty Marin and Kaye stayed till midnight, talking around the dinner table, and my mother said, "You made them sit around the uncomfortable table all night?"
This is why I'm a nervous person. We were drinking our wine and having seconds and the cats were on their laps and no one SEEMED uncomfortable, and now I am over here TORMENTING myself, thinking, oh GOD, they were in HELL, looking into the living room longingly all those hours, just wishing I would say, "Let's move into the living room for brandy and cigars, shall we?"
Oh! I forgot! I took a blurry picture of said table. Then after that I forgot to take a picture of anything, because I was too busy making everyone miserable with my Spanish Inquisition furniture and obnoxious pets.
You probably think the part where I "forgot" to take a photo of the actual guests means we didn't really have anyone over, and we have no friends, and Marty Martin and Kaye are our George Glass. Don't you?
George Glass was Jan Brady's made-up boyfriend on Brady Bunch. In case you didn't know. Which, how could you not. But sometimes my cousin Katie, who is 12 years younger than me, does not know my Brady Bunch references and it irks. Not as much as anyone TAPPING ME ON THE ARM, but close.
I could not remotely tell you who was Secretary of State between the years 1969-1974, but by God, I can tell you who Jan Brady's imaginary boyfriend was.
Okay, then. Happy ValenTIME's Day!