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Did you guys like...have a nice dinner with a significant other or whatever it is people do for Valentine's? Did you buy or receive flowers? Did you lose your vir....hahaha why am I even asking that here. Anyway I made you all this card. And I did NOT steal the idea of making a card from Tim, I want to make that clear. I would never do such a thing. I slaved over it for hours. Grew the flower myself from a seed. It's true.

ok boomer

In all seriousness Happy Valentine's Day to my bestest bro @Tim36D, who is the coolest dude ever and the best friend anyone can ask for. Here is a brose for him:

I 'member. I was actually writing a story inspired by it and found it very strange that I could so easily write a gay romance. So, like Ebon burned that rose, I burned the story and never spoke of it again.

Ew.

By popular demand, I've come to post a formal write up of my Valentines weekend. It's a tale of love, memory problems, vomit, screws, ladder theft, and attempted murder(no really, there was attempted murder). So, Valentines Day itself started off great. I took a half day off work since it was Valentines and because I had an ultrasound appointment and my husband was going with me. We went to that, saw our baby and it was great. Then we snagged some lunch and I went into work. We ended up closing early, I thought that was perfect. Now I'll actually be able to do the fancy Valentines dinner I had planned to do saturday since I'm off work early. Nope, I called my husband to tell him the good news. But, he's already half way to North Carolina to go get a tires. Tires that are probably stolen, because why else would someone sell a $1000 set of tires for $200? But, hey! That's ok, I told myself I'd just go back to the original plan of Valentines Day on Saturday instead. No big deal. My husband gets home and tells me that he is now going rabbit hunting with his dad tomorrow. No big deal I tell myself again, he'll be home in time for dinner. We can still Netflix and chill, it'll be fine. And hell, I haven't had a day with the house all to myself in over a month. And sure enough, it was great. I was lazy most of the day besides general house cleaning and chicken related chores. I binged the entire new season of Sabrina. But, that was the end of my good day. My husband got home right when I was starting to work on my fancy dinner. I had a 6lb leg of lamb and a fucking Gordon Ramsay recipe. It was going to be glorious. I slaved over it for two hours. Everything smelled wonderful, I was so excited. I posted a picture of the roast in the discord. Then suddenly, I hear a knock at the door. It's my father in law and my husband's Mamaw. My husband forgot this was our Valentines dinner and invited them then forgot to tell me. Flustered, I invite them in and pretend this was all part of the plan. I forget to check the temp on the roast, I just take it out and let it rest while I make extra salads and bemoan the fact that I won't have leftover sweet potatoes after all. Mamaw wants to help, but I send her to the living room. She's like the family matriarch and does Sunday dinner and is literally community famous for her food and general wholesomeness. I love her dearly, but this is my kitchen... It's my domain... And I'll be damned if anybody else gets credit for any of this food. Only, that backfired. I start cutting up the roasted leg of lamb and it's fucking raw. So I cried for a solid minute as I kept cutting it up and put it back in the oven and prayed it didn't get dry. I finished up the gravy made from the drippings, made some cheesy garlic toast, made a formal fucking table setting because my granny taught me Southern Manners god dammit. Finally the roast gets done, it tastes great. We all sit around and chat. They leave at 9:00PM. My husband has gorged on lamb and forgot that I got us strawberries and hershey's fudge. He ate one and was full and went and fell asleep on the couch. I ate them by myself. Fun fact, it's way cheaper to just get the fudge and containers of freshs strawberries to DIY than it is to buy them predone. Less pretty, but just as good and cheaper. So I give up on romance and go to bed. Only to be awakened at 2AM by the sound of my husband puking his guts out. Now he wasn't sick sick, he has really bad acid reflux and eating too much too late in the evening does this to him. Doesn't stop him from eating too much anyway, but at least he wasn't contagious. I decide to be a good wife and be supportive. He held my hair through four months of constant morning sickness, I can go rub his back, right? Wrong, so fucking wrong. I hit a wall of sick half way into the bathroom and almost puked myself. I kept trucking on, holding my nose and trying to help. I rubbed his back for a second then gagged and had to run out. This went on in loop for about an hour. Sunday morning, we both felt better. I made him take me to Ihop to make up for the inlaws crashing our Valentines Date Night at his request. Breakfast was great, I had a french toast combo and swiss mocha coffee. Then we went to Lowes because I needed some seed starting trays to start my veggies indoors before planting season hits. I find what I need in about ten minutes and then it happens. My husband remembers that we need angled gutter spouts and the little tray things that go under them to protect your foundation from erosion. Ok, we can do that. No big deal. Two hours later, I'm still in Lowes staring at gutter spouts as my husband realizes the ones he needs are on the top shelf. I stop paying attention to him for a few minutes and watch an old lady climb a shelf further down the aisle and knock off a patio door kit. It busted on the floor. When a worker came by, she lectured him about not helping her fast enough and somehow got out of paying for the damaged goods. I turn back around and my husband has a 10FT drain pipe and is trying to work the box of spouts off the top shelf. I make him stop and accept the fact that I'm probably going to be that parent with their kid on a leash because he's probably going to take after his dad and be a hellion. So next, my husband runs off to find someone to help. They end up never coming, so he instead decides to steal the roller ladder. At this point I've hit fuck it and encourage this. He gets the box, we get caught by a worker who lectures us as we hurry away, and I think that's it, I'm free. Only no, he now needs screws. We then go to the screw aisle and he can't find the ones he wants. After about thirty minutes of screwing around with the screws in the screw section, we finally find the right ones and get the hell out of dodge. We go home and on the way up the driveway decide to stop and check on my chickens. I've been suspecting one of my hens is about to go broody so we were checking to see if she was laying on eggs. My husband was the last one to leave out the coop door(this is important for later) and we then went back up to the house. I got my niece's birthday present ready and we hauled ass to her party and actually made it on time somehow. The party was good, no complaints there. We then swung by my parent's house after since my mom had called and told me she'd made raspberry cake and wanted to give us some. We got our cake and headed home. But, when we got there something was not right. There were more chickens running loose than there should be. I normally only have four roosters loose, my lawn ornaments as I call them. But, there were 18 chickens scratching around the pasture. We'd had a goddam jailbreak! So we get out of the car and nearly get run over by my rooster Elvis getting chased by the Lawn Ornaments. Shit got straight up Game of Thrones in this bitch. The other roosters were not only beating Elvis up, but there was rape going on. I didn't even know roosters raped each other. But, they do... they do. For a solid year, Elvis has been in the coop with the hens. He's a gentleman and respects consent so the hens stay relaxed and happy and lay lots of eggs. But, he likes to flaunt his Hugh Hefner status in front of the Lawn Ornaments through the wire of the coop and I guess they've been holding a grudge all this time. My husband goes after them. He chases this pack of rooster rape and beat downs all up and down the pasture. I won't lie, it was hilarious and I did laugh. Meanwhile, I rounded up my hens who for the most part were pretty polite about going back in the coop since I put food in there. I just had to slowly herd them in the right direction. Finally my husband comes tearing back down the pasture after the roosters, Elvis is in the lead followed by the Lawn Ornaments who are still pecking him, trying to mount him, and generally kicking his ass. They run him into a tree that has a bunch of trunks(No idea what that is actually called, but yeah it was a cluster of trunks). Elvis gets knocked into the tree and pinned between the trunks. He is simultaneosly getting butt fucked, pecked, and flogged by the other four roosters. Then my husband comes barreling in with the rage of hades and sends the other roosters flying, grabs Elvis and makes a beeline for me and the coop. The Lawn Ornaments start coming after him to get to Elvis so he uses Elvis as a bat to knock them away from him. Poor Elvis is literally being swung by his feet and used as a club to swat away the other roosters as my husband makes a run for it. He makes it inside with Elvis and I send the Lawn Ornament away with a good scolding and threats of making chicken stock out of them. Elvis has no feathers left on his butt, which has been pecked raw among other things, or his legs, and some of his neck feathers have been yanked out. But he's alive. So we go back up to the house and sit our asses on the couch. Our plans of putting together my shelf with grow lights for my tomatoes are out the window. It can be done tomorrow. So instead we just sit on the couch together, discussing how brutal chicken society is and how much Valentines has sucked this year. I guess at some point my husband felt bad about the lack of romance so he buttered me up with some love songs. He's tone deaf as hell, but how can I not appreciate that? So we ended up dancing a bit in the living room then going to bed and sleeping like the dead. And now I'm here, sharing my Valentines horror story with you all. You're welcome.

The curse of being a good/approachable writer is that your suffering is ALWAYS hilarious.

I should probably do a write up about the skid steer turning into Satan's boiling asshole one of these days too. But so far the right thread has not presented itself lol.

Sabley's husband belongs in a 90s sitcom. The rooster section raised the maturity level so much though. I vote for executing the rape gang so this doesn't happen again.

Yeah, I think I'm going to butcher all four of them and make soup out of them if I can. Then use what's left on the carcasses for stock that I can can. I'm just going to wait until I have a free weekend to do it, because that's a lot of work and I already have plans for this coming weekend. Up until now they've just been these fat, goofy roosters that follow me around and act cute. Now they're brutal gang rapists and would be murderers. I just can't look at them the same way anymore.