Early this morning, we, your HuffPost Valentine's Day editors Todd and Lindsay, broke up.
But everything's fine! We'll still be bringing you all the news this Valentine's Day with the highest level of professionalism. That said, if you want to know exactly how Todd Lindsay no actually it was definitely you Todd Lindsay messed up, follow our story here, and judge for yourself.
ACTUALLY NO IT'S NOT FINE ANYMORE, AS YOU MIGHT HAVE GUESSED FROM THE VIDEO WE POSTED OF A LION KILLING ANOTHER LION. WE ARE STILL UPDATING THE LIVEBLOG BELOW, HOWEVER, BECAUSE DOCUMENTATION COMES IN HANDY IN A COURT OF LAW.
Kent is dead, Todd, what have we done. I don't want to say this is your fault but, it kind of is.
Lindsay, does Kent usually look that blue?
KENT HERE. I am choking on a Hershey's Kiss. CHoking. No one is left in the office but me and these two fools, who are too self-absorbed to notice I am BLUE IN THE FACE. HELPPPPppp
You're the one who asked for this truce to begin with and now you're changing your mind? That is just like you.
And leave Kent out of this! All he's ever done is bring people doughnuts. You never brought me doughnuts.
And how dare you tell me that I should "lose my memory," when you're the one who is always forgetting things, like, you know, my birthday? Our anniversary? The first 3 digits of pi? The capital of New York State? Oh yeah, I'll go "lose my memory." Like my memory of how you came home drunk three days ago and vomited into the empty rabbit cage? My memory of you KILLING MY RABBIT?
You are an ANIMAL KILLER.
You know what Lindsay? No. You've just reminded me of why I don't want to be with you. You couldn't just lose your memory and be nice, could you? Truce off.
Kent, what are you doing here?
My "weirdly extensive seashell collection?"
I love beaches, OK, Todd? A lot of people keep collections. It's normal. It's not "weird" or "extensive" to keep a collection of things. You just had to get ONE MORE THING IN THERE, didn't you?
Actually, you know what? I love a lot of things about you, too, Todd. Your laugh, your taste in music, the way you press down my shirt before you used to kiss me, and your stupid, stupid face that I hate.
Sure, let's call a truce.
This is crazy, Linds.
Look what we've done.
We've made fools of ourselves, OK? There is a lion eating a lion on the splash. I mean...look: I like a lot of things about you. That's why we got together in the first place. Your taste in movies, your smile, your warm heart, your weirdly extensive seashell collection. You're a talented writer and you've always supported me.
Would you vote for someone who would do that to a person who looks sort of like a baby animal?
is walking by the desk. Oh HAYYYYYY Kent, how's it going? Yes, please stop by and give Lindsay a doughnut. Lindsay loooves doughnuts. Oh, and why don't you bring her a blowtorch? Lindsay really, really, reallllly loves fire. Oh you're going to go over there, huh? Don't want to get involved? What? Involved in what? Involved in what? There's nothing to be involved in. Don't be ridiculous, "Intern Kent."
HEY READERS WHY DON'T YOU TELL US WHO YOU REALLY PREFER HUH?LOOK I MADE A POLL.
LET'S DO THIS THE DEMOCRATIC WAY. IT'S AMERICA AFTER ALL.
Says the man who sprained his pinky singing "Greatest Love of All."
not a carcass. Please. Love is the feeling of satisfaction I will have when every last thing you own is out of the apartment. Not the "Game of Thrones" box set, though. I'm keeping that.
Love is the warm fuzzy feeling you get when you look at a picture of your grandparents at their fiftieth wedding anniversary.
Love is someone reaching out to hold your hand in the cold and squeezing it tight.
Love is letting someone watch the new "Glee" instead of watching four hours of DVRed episodes of "Dog, The Bounty Hunter."
Love is wearing a nightguard so that your tooth grinding doesn't keep everyone else in the room awake all night.
Love is pretending not to notice when you spit out bits of your toenails onto the counter after you've chewed them off.
Love is a mother chicken throwing its feathered body on top of its chicks, sacrificing its life to the hawk that swoops down to kill them all.
Love is a lion, killing an antelope, ripping out its entrails with its big teeth, so that it can provide a decent meal for its family.
Love is the antelope, ripped limb from limb, letting its carcass be devoured so that the rest of life can go on another day.
You know what the polite thing to do is when someone can't hear what you're saying? You repeat yourself and don't make fun of their decreased ear function.You know what the polite thing to do is when you're not dating someone anymore but you happen to still live with them? You don't use their face razor to shave your legs.
If we're going to talk about hair, can we talk about the single hair growing out of your nostril that moves up and down as you breathe ? It's like a little antenna, trying to get signal, so it can call a hair trimmer that will finally put it out of its misery. I can't blame it because I wouldn't want to live in your nose either.
I just wanted to do you a solid and explain to you what you're getting into if you decide to take a whirl on the Lindsay-go-round. Here's the thing: It might seem like a good idea, at first. Sure, Lindsay's reasonably attractive, has all her teeth, all her fingers, a full head of hair. So she starts off with the whole, 'Oh, intern Kent, you're so cute, thank you for these doughnuts, they're so powdery and fresh and sweet, just like you, you 19-year-old little ladykiller, you.' And so on. And so you're like, 'Wowwwwwwwwwww, a girl liiiiiiikessssss me, I am the maannnnnnnnnn." And then all of a sudden you're living together, just occupying space together, spending twice as much air as one person would, and it's okay. And then you start to notice things. Things like, how when she laughs at other people's jokes she laughs way more loudly than she does at your jokes. Things like, how when she has friends over they drink all your beer and use all your toilet paper. Her hair. It is actually everywhere. Yesterday, I was having water, and you know what I found? Not one hair. Not two hairs. Four hairs. In my water. Floating in my water. Evil little hairs.
So enjoy Lindsay, Kent. Enjoy hacking up hairballs for the next three years of your life. Have a blast.
Love, your friend, Todd.
I breathed in a paper bag just now for a good solid two minutes. I am not happy about the rabbit. I will avenge Captain. But right now, I've reached a liberating, exhilarating place. I am not going to be the bigger person here! I will be much, much smaller. I will be tiny and mean and really suuuuuper crazy. You're not even gonna see me, that's how small and crazy I'll be. I suggest you study this hard:
Did you really1?1?!??!?!??!?!?!?!??!?!??!!?!? - Lindsay
Remember when your rabbit ran away?
I might have taken it outside and let it run in the opposite direction of our house.
I just told everyone everything. I hope your disgustingly enormous lunch makes you carpe everywhere. - Lindsay
I'm just saying. - Todd
What the hell Todd. You took four sandwiches? There was not a single one left by the time I got there. I took exactly one tortellini and five slices of canteloupe! What the hell! I KNOW YOU KNOW I LOVE GRILLED VEGETABLE SANDWICHES!! You're a bloodthirsty meat-eater! What did you need with three grilled vegetable sandwiches?? I swear I'm going to get you Todd. I am super hungry now. - Lindsay
Our wonderful Gay Voices team is giving out FREE lunch, which is probably the one thing Todd and I can agree on. Stay tuned.
Ha, ha! Good one, Todd! We all enjoyed reading that.
In other news, here's a Mitt Romney story:
Want to hear about Lindsay's dreams? She's happy to tell you about them. Every. Single. Morning. Seriously. Every morning. Not a morning goes by when it's not all like:
Lindsay: Oh man, I had the weirdest dream last night.
Me: Oh yeah? What was it?
Lindsay: I was, like, in a box? But not a big box. Like a small box. And there were dogs there.
Me: Wow. That is incredible.Lindsay: And the dogs were walking around on roller skates, which is weird. Because dogs don't
usually wear roller skates. So that's pretty weird.
Me: So. Weird.
Lindsay: And my mom was there.
Me: No way!Lindsay: Yeah, my mom was there and she was standing with her arms crossed, but her hair was brown instead of blonde? Which is weird because my mom's hair is brown in real
Imagine That! Every morning! FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.
It's like this. Like this.