Who wants Art on a Card?
Hello, mighty followers! I had an idea for Valentine’s Day!
Who wants to have a postcard with a fantasy flower on it for FREE?!
As you can see, there is enough blank space on the card, so you can write your own Valentine’s message on the front, like “You are so sweet, I want to
eat lick your face.” And they are just outlined in black, so you can colour them in, if you want to do so.
All I want you to do is to share your most funny/embarassing/touching Valentine’s story with me, and I’ll pick my favourite three, who will then get a card. Then I’ll send them to you and all we have to do is pray that they arrive on time for you to send them to your Valentines.
How cool is that?
To start you off, I will share my own Valentine’s Day story with you. This story is only known to people who went to school with me half a lifetime ago, I told nobody else this. Evar.
Here goes: Back in what you would call ‘high school’ in the English language, we had the so called “Rose Day”, which was on the 14th of February. We weren’t allowed to call it Valentine’s Day for some reason I cannot remember – probably school politics and religion and stuff. What I DO remember though is that you could place an order with the organizers of the whole thing, pay them two Deutsche Mark and have a red rose given to a person of your choice. I never got one, because I was the weird kid. Remember Napoleon Dynamite? That was not me. Remember his girlfriend who sold rubber bracelets she made herself to earn money for college? That was me. But less cool. And not as pretty.
The thing is, we had two Jasmins in our class, me and the pretty tiny blonde girl that is in every classroom around the universe. Only she was in the bathroom while the roses were handed out. The people giving out the roses read out your name and then you had to go to the front of the room and get your rose. When her name, which is also my name, came up, everybody in the classroom stared at me. I knew it could not possibly be me, so I just stayed put and prayed for the other Jasmin to come back from the bathroom. “Jasmin”, the student who handed out the roses repeated. The teacher pointed at me. So the student came over to my desk and handed me a blood red, gorgeously smelling rose. He proceeded, and while I was sniffing the roses head, the other Jasmin came in, grabbed the rose from me and with a cold smile she uttered “Thank you for keeping an eye on it while I was gone.”
That was my story. I swear to God this is absolutely true. Your turn.