So last night I snuck into my brother's house to drop off Valentine's for my two nieces and for A & B, the twins that should be making an appearance any day now.
A & B are stuck with those names I think, as that is what they are called on the ultrasound for now. Sarah and Emma shall be their real names, but I think I'm going to call them A & B forever.
Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, so I broke into his house so that they would find their presents in the morning. On the table was a box all decorated up with hearts.
I don't know if you did this where you grew up, but we had a yearly contest on who could make the best Valentine's Day box. You went to school, and kids delivered their Valentines to your box. There was a small party, and you would open up all the cheesy Valentines and eat some pink cupcake that the room mother made.
I've always been competitive. Once in 2nd grade when we lost a softball game my hippie type Mother told me, "Well you are just playing to have fun, it's ok." I promptly corrected her and said, "NO I'm not, I'm playing to WIN."
I am my Father's child. Anyway, in 4th grade I decided I was going to win that damn competition. This was a stressful enough time for kids. I mean, you had to deliver these Valentines to other kids, and you had to make sure that you didn't give any embarrassing ones that said "Be Mine" or something like that to the cute boy.
But I had my mind set. I diligently worked on my Valentine's day box for a week. Snoopy was the theme, and I fashioned a shoebox into a Snoopy's dog house. I even got a small stuffed Snoopy dog and Woodstock, which I glued to the top. I cut out a little heart chain to go around the hugging Snoopy and Woodstock.
It was a fucking masterpiece I tell you. Brilliant. My Mom drove me to school that day as I was afraid it would get messed up on the bus.
I looked around at the other kid's boxes, assured of my win. It was in the bag.
Then she walked in. Her name was Sheri, and so help me God if I remembered her last name I would put it here so if she Googled herself she would find this entry.
Sheri's box was a jack-in-the-box. It was a working jack-in-the-box, made from scratch. You cranked the handle, and the little doll came out with his mouth open and you put the Valentine in there.
Fucking bitch. There is no way in hell she made that by herself. This was like 1980 or something, and back in the day the parental units made you make your own damn stuff.
There was no way she made that. No way in hell.
So Sheri got to be the Valentine's Day Princess. Sheri got the award.
Fucking Sheri. It still pisses me off to this day. I never even got a chance to beat her because the cheating bitch moved away after 4th grade.
My teacher gave me a dose of sugar to help the medicine go down though. As I got my runner-up prize, she told me, "I would have voted for yours because you made it yourself."
Take that fucking Sheri. The teacher liked mine the best.
God I need therapy....