Paper Cuts

I have nothing against Papyrus as a place of business. In fact, I think whoever invented Papyrus is a genius. Anyone who can build a store, fill it full of quilted birthday cards and tiny bird-shaped stickers, and charge recovering sorority girls $8.99 for an engagement card featuring a tiny mock wedding dress made out of tulle earns at least the title "entrepreneurial guru" in my book.

Hell, I've only gone into Papyrus three times (once was for a present for the Boyf's mom -- enough said), and even I got tiny goosebumps of joy when I saw they're building a new one right next to my Chelsea gym. (Hey, it beats Motherhood Maternity, the location's previous tenant.)

But I have to draw the line somewhere.

It took a sheer act of God, but I bought and mailed an anniversary card for my parents a full three days before the actual date. (Please save your applause for the end of the post.) After the envelope had been addressed, stamped, and sealed, I saw that Papyrus had left me a tiny "card within a card" as a memento of my card-buying experience. Printed on it was the exorbitant price I had just willingly paid, the message that was inside the frilly card, and an extra little poEM (emphasis mine):

Legends say that hummingbirds float free of time, carrying our hopes for love, joy and celebration. The hummingbird's delicate grace reminds us that life is rich, beauty is everywhere, every personal connection has meaning and that laughter is life's sweetest creation.

Memo to Papyrus: All I'm trying to do is send my parents a card with glued-on foam cutouts of a married couple sporting Hawaiian shirts, flip-flops, shades, and little umbrella drinks. I don't need your personal philosophy on the hummingbird -- or anything else, for that matter.

Now, take your $10 and make off with it like the bandit you are. The cute, lacy, sweet, perfect bandit you are....