Love ya, mean it!

I feel like this post is going to be more of a warning than anything else. Heads up, we're going to be talking about love a fair bit this year. Not puppies and flowers and toddlers and dotting your i with a heart. (Are you sick of the toddler love yet? Sorry, but you'll have to look at her mug for a while now, no matter what kind of love we're talking about. The children are our future, people.) I'm talking about the romantic stuff and the real life stuff and the hot buttered love. (Hi dad!)

We're going to be working some things out, soliciting some feedback, ranting and raving, there might be some crying. I know, I don't like the public crying either but even Pamie will tell you that sometimes it has to happen. This will not be pretty. OK, it might be kind of pretty but it's all happening in real time, just like 24, so it will also be awkward and embarrassing and, while fun, also stupid and strange (tm SortaHappy).

I am not currently in love. Unless you count Viggo, Cusack, Marsters, Patrick Wilson, RDJr., Joshua Jackson, Tom Cavanagh etc. etc. etc. (I'm at work I so do not have time to link to all of them. Google. You will enjoy.) And, they do not require me to have clean towels so I have decided that I can't really count them. (If the right real life boy comes along and he still does not require me to have clean towels we may have a winner. "Ever killed anyone just to watch him die?" "Once, in Reno, it was fun but too messy to do all the time." "Require clean towels upon visiting?" "Oh christ, no!" "Great, welcome to my world, beer is in the fridge and the remote becomes mine at 8.")

For the record I have been in love before. One ended sort of stupidly but thank god that it did. The other burned like something you get from a whorehouse in Deadwood but I've got a cream and after liberal long term application it seems to be almost gone. The scarring, while not minimal, promises not to be crippling.

2006, the year I beat love into submission!