Love Is... Creepy.

If you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you've probably figured out by now that I really don't like cutesy little figurines with ditzy or affectionate sayings on them.  Perhaps it's a flaw in my character, or my healthy inner snark, or perhaps I just have stronger views on the nature of love and don't feel that it can be adequately conveyed by a badly-rendered clay lump and a trite phrase.

But a lot of that comes down to taste, and I have no real problem with other people liking such things.  Except when they're really weird or creepy or odd, at which point I feel a little justified in poking fun at them.

Gives a new, creepier meaning to that Jack and Jill rhyme about pails of water.

...And what part of love, exactly, is running around in the fields totally naked and collecting your tears in buckets?  Even Miss Havisham didn't go THAT far off the deep end when her boyfriend left.

(Well, okay, there was that bit with the rats in the shell of the wedding cake, and the ruined dress and things.  But at least the woman kept her clothes on when she went crazy.)