I just HAD to get in on the action. Really now, how can you NOT participate in something with THAT noble an aim? The submissions were hilarious, and many ought to be turned into some kind of Valentine's greeting card, because heaven knows that there is a dearth of "Sorry I was such a Dick" cards out there. So go on over, read some inspiriing poetry, and enjoy.
This got me to thinking.....and I'll wait a moment while all of you go "why start thinking NOW, TIff? Why NOW?"......more ellipses.......and some more.......y'all done yet?
Good. To reiterate: This got me to thinking "why don't we have poetry/greeting cards for 'I'm sorry I was such a BITCH' "? Because really y'all, there's a need. Hey, I know from time to time (once a month, maybe?) I could have used such a card or sentiment myself, and as hard as you might find that to believe, it's true. Sometimes Tiff needs a mega-Midoal and a half-gallon of liquor to keep the even keel...
So, I ask you, my friends. What couplets, sonnets, odes, limericks, or haiku would YOU like to see on the subject? Write some, and leave 'em in the comments. If you do, feel free to download and use the attached graphic on your site to let the world know you're making it a safe place to live, one apology at a time.
Oh, here are a couple of examples for ya:
If I wasn't such a bitch,
How would you know that I loved you?
If I wasn't such a bitch,
Would you say that my love wasn't true?
If I wasn't such a bitch
What would you talk about with your friends
If I wasn't such a bitch
How could we make our amends?
If saying I'm sorry will make you feel better
Then I'm sorry, OK? That enough?
If saying I'm sorry will make you forgive me
Then I'm sorry, all right? Let's make love.
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Your friends tell you that I'm a bitch
Do they know how good you've got it?
Their wives are harridans, shrews, and fishwives
Nags and witches and hotheads
So I'm sorry that people say I'm a bitch
I'd say that they're way of the mark
Their "little ladies" and lovers are way worse than me
I'm a bitch, yeah, but not in the dark.
So I'm kind of a terrible poet, but you get the idea, no?
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Ah yes, the graphic -
I made it myself. It sucks, but whatever. It fits the mood, right?--------------------------------------
More dreams of spiders last night. Spiders in church. Church spiders....does this need any interpretation?
Started with one little inch-wormy thing hanging from the back of a pew, which I tried to wipe away before it got on Thing 1. Then the sticky threads started to multiply, and with each swipe grew in tangledness and adhesion until I was flailing around in a mass of websilk, all the while noticing that the little spots of what I thought were dust were really baby spiders, and that they were growing by the second and getting all over me. In my hair, down my neck, on my kids, on the preacher. Ther was no escape....none.
I hate those kind of dreams. Where's George Clooney when you need him?
George has let me down lately. He doesn't show up anymore. What's UP with that? Why can't a fantasy boyfriend at least show up from dreamtime? Where am I going wrong with this?Do I need a new, more attentive fantasy boyfriend, or is it that being happy in real life has chased away the need for a fantasy boyfriend once and for all?
Daggone it. All this happy is wrecking what used to be a very lively imagination.
Hrmph.
Now if the happy could do something about the spiders, I'd be ever so grateful.
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No leg update today folks. Just let it be known that the bruising continues to spead, that some of the steri-strips have come off, and that I just found out that it takes longer than three days for me to be all the way healed up. Eee-yewwwww.
Oh, and I have a splinter. Or had one. I just dug it out. It was made of METAL. TF?
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Headlines are once again taking a break; I used all my creativity on that black rose graphic.
Make it worth my while y'all, and write me something purty, please?
Then have a great weekend!
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