To My Valentine

If I were an astronaut, my love for you would make me a crazy astronaut.


A 900 mile drive just to see you, or to confront and possibly kidnap someone that I thought liked you would pass in an instant. Some people might take those 10 to 12 hours to ponder their actions, to rethink their motivation, to consider the irreparable harm that they were about to do to their family and realize that the twenty years of focused, intense hard work that it took to become an astronaut were about to be flushed down a toilet.


Not me.


My love for you would fuel my motivation and I would not stop until I was near you.


Or was in police custody.


Well, I would possibly have to stop for gas.


And probably some pepper spray.


And also a knife.


I guess coffee would be okay. But that's it! I wouldn't even stop to use the bathroom.


To prove my love for you, I'd weigh everything that I had ever learned, my access to high security government installations, millions of dollars in high tech equipment, training from the top scientists and experts in the world and choose one thing to help me get to you as quickly as possible.


Diapers.


My love for you may make it appear that I'm addicted to meth, but it's you that I'm addicted to.


They should use better lighting when taking mugshots.


Be my Valentine!


No, seriously.


That wasn't a request.