Dear Michael, I love the way you comb your hair, i love the way you're always there. I love it when you let me sleep and try real hard to make not a peep. I love your smell and all your clothes and when you try to steal my nose~! I love your taste in movies and more, i love your want and need for gore. I love it when you hold me tight and when you tuck me in at night. I love your smile and big, strong hands; but i don't love 80's hair bands. I love the music you play all day, and also when i have my way. I love it when you pick me up and when you call and say "what's up?" I love it when you dance with me and when i'm tired, make me tea. I love the way your voice sounds, too; there are so many reasons why i love you! I love how much you love me so, and cry when i say i have to go... I love when you come to watch Futurama for i'm your loving mamajama. I love, i love, i love so much- i also love your every touch. that was um, ode to michael- subtitle, "black-eyed P"... ... .... [HIGH 5!]