If you've ever wanted to be "banged" by like 6 clowns

Well, then a) you're a sicko pervert and b) you should spend the rest of your day on Craigslist.
It is 9:38 on a Friday morning in Salt Lake City, Utah. I haven't written all week and I have no excuse, dear reader, other than to say I've been filling my time with stress filled fantasies of new jobs or a better life at the job I currently have. I've broken out like a pizza-faced 14 year old shoveling greasy popcorn into buckets.
St. Valentine's day was surprisingly more romantic than I expected given my being on the rag and all. Lars made me a pink cake with our initials on it. When I got home from work, he said that one of our animals had puked in the bathroom, but he hadn't had a chance to clean it. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I dragged ass to the bathroom to commence in what has become a daily ritual of scrubbing some sort of animal refuse from my floor, but when I opened the door...there they were. Our pretty red vase filled with my favorite flowers. Ok...I'm a sucker. I never considered myself a "flowers" kind of girl until I started dating someone who actually gave them to me. Stargazer lilies can fix any mood as far as I'm concerned.
We're celebrating again on Saturday, because that's how we roll.
I loooooooove him.
Honey, if you're reading this: "I love you, you have no ideal how much I love you. I miss you turribly."