I bet you didn't know that my boyfriend loves stickers. Loves them. Adores them. With the fascination of a six year old filling sticker books. Only instead of filling books he saves them. Hoards them.
He has a manila envelope labeled "STICKERS."
And even better: he puts them on things. When the stickers come out, I feel like I have to be on guard and not stay still too long or else I'll be stickered. His brand new Wii has been be-stickered. Already.
My hairbrush, my deodorant, my retainer box, our remote, the underside of the coffee table, our tape dispenser, his water bottle, my water bottle, his ski tub, his truck. He tried to sticker my snowboard this winter. I very nearly killed him. Only my squalling as he hovered, sticker in hand, over the pristine surface of my beautiful board stopped him. He looked at me with an innocent expression.
"What?" he asked.
"That's my snowboard," I wailed.
"I know," he agreed. "It needs a sticker."
I'm still afraid to leave him alone with it.
sticker monster attacked again... oh geez
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