The day anything goes, cause it's just extra. For tweny-four precious hours, we get to do whatever we want. It's like Vegas. What happens today, stays in today. It's almost like it never happened.
The only people we should feel sorry for are birthday leap babies. (If I was a leapling, I'd demand my birthday be celebrated the other 365 days of the year. That's a whole lot of cake. I'd also be 5.) I betcha every man in the world would love this to be his anniversary; he'd only have to remember it every four years.
We don't get these throw-away days very often, so we should make the most of it. Right?
I may get a tattoo on my fanny that says "Leaping since '89."
I may go blast my neighbors car with 366 eggs. (Just kidding, that'd be expensive.)
I may go try out for the Olympics. I hear running to the fridge is a new relay. Winning!
This is us leaping, because it's leap year. (Blooper from engagement pictures.) My white boy has some serious ups, whereas I'm dangerously close to a wardrobe malfunction. It also kinda looks like I'm pooping.
So today, do something you'd never normally do! Leap into the possibilities... now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to do laundry.