Way back in 2007 I, uh, romanced the then new boy with a Valentine’s Day autopsy. He was instructed to slice open the the surgically enhanced “typical Valentine’s Day Bear” to surmise a cause of death (my guess – commercialization of affection). Inside the departed’s brain and belly were heart friendly paraphernalia – from a pulse monitor to a small bottle of red wine to a mix CD of Beatboxing a la Rahzel.
This year we gorged on lemon bars and episodes of the saccharine but adorably macabre Pushing Daisies. Ha, the seasons of l’amour!
Will You Be Mine?