Will you be mine, (ours)?

Will you be our Valentine? It's so lonely with only six in the bed. We cry ourselves to snuggly sleep everynight because we love you.

You're the one that we want. We love your hair, and that voice! That voice! We love your beard and/or the way you wear your skirts, slung low on your hips. You are tantalizing us with your flirtatious mix tapes and friendster messages.

I mean, do you like us or not? Just tell us. Check "Yes" or "No". Just flick the screen, we're watching you anyway. Too bad the intense lover that is writing this doesn't know how to post pictures, otherwise there would be an icon or something for you to use.

But we (I) can post this:

The Wieners love you. We love you for reading the blog and for coming to our shows, and we love all of those crazy little things that you do. You're so quirky! We love that. We love you.

Be our Valentine! Be ours! If you want us, (me), you can find us (me) all day long, wishing for chocolate, at my apartment, (the wiener headquarters) on Henry St, in heaven, (Brooklyn).

We (I) promise you a love, one similiar to Whitney Houston's and Bobby Brown's. That would be "the geatest love of all," minus a crack addiction and randomly being SO SWEATY. ALWAYS.

We (I) love you,
The Wieners (jenny sarah slate)