Levonian
New Member
- Joined
- Sep 27, 2003
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Hey Baby Doll—
Another year has rolled around, and now it’s our fifth anniversary. It seems like just yesterday we were holding hands in the lobby of the Las Vegas Howard Johnson’s, you in your pink ten-dollar dress and me in my too-tight Costco dress slacks and vinyl golf shoes, waiting in trepidation for the not-so-fat Elvis to arrive. Little did we know what the roller coaster we were about to get on held in store for us. We didn’t think that we would spend the next five years battling an endless succession of obstacles. In between our parents, our employers, and the crooks we sold the house to, it seemed like we would never catch a break. Then when it finally seemed that there might just be a tiny glimmer of a sliver of a feeble ray of sunshine at the end of the shit storm, the economy collapsed and set us back another notch or two. And then to add insult to injury, you’re still stuck in Washington and I’m trapped here a thousand miles away in Simi Valley. How many anniversaries have we actually spent together—one or two? It sucks—there’s no two ways about it. However, there are two things about which I am certain. The first is that the shit storm will eventually pass, and the second is that I know who I want to be standing with when the flood waters recede—just you and that silly little poodle with half of her teeth missing. We made it through five years of perpetual annoyances, and we’ll make through the next five years, and the next five after that. I doubt the poodle will still be with us, but I’m sure that we’ll be standing on dry ground. So if you still love me as much as I love you, let’s build an island fortress and man the turrets until the end of our days. By the time we’re really old farts, we should be crack shots.
With love forever,
The monkey you married :monkey:
Another year has rolled around, and now it’s our fifth anniversary. It seems like just yesterday we were holding hands in the lobby of the Las Vegas Howard Johnson’s, you in your pink ten-dollar dress and me in my too-tight Costco dress slacks and vinyl golf shoes, waiting in trepidation for the not-so-fat Elvis to arrive. Little did we know what the roller coaster we were about to get on held in store for us. We didn’t think that we would spend the next five years battling an endless succession of obstacles. In between our parents, our employers, and the crooks we sold the house to, it seemed like we would never catch a break. Then when it finally seemed that there might just be a tiny glimmer of a sliver of a feeble ray of sunshine at the end of the shit storm, the economy collapsed and set us back another notch or two. And then to add insult to injury, you’re still stuck in Washington and I’m trapped here a thousand miles away in Simi Valley. How many anniversaries have we actually spent together—one or two? It sucks—there’s no two ways about it. However, there are two things about which I am certain. The first is that the shit storm will eventually pass, and the second is that I know who I want to be standing with when the flood waters recede—just you and that silly little poodle with half of her teeth missing. We made it through five years of perpetual annoyances, and we’ll make through the next five years, and the next five after that. I doubt the poodle will still be with us, but I’m sure that we’ll be standing on dry ground. So if you still love me as much as I love you, let’s build an island fortress and man the turrets until the end of our days. By the time we’re really old farts, we should be crack shots.
With love forever,
The monkey you married :monkey:
