Thursday, February 09, 2006

gee isn't love great? it sure is!

it's time again to launch into my trademark bitter diatribe about valentine's day (bitter diatribe about mardi gras to ensue). i'll submit the usual disclaimer:

if any of you blog or e-mail me about how lovely and romantic and wonderfully wonderful of a time you and your significant bother had on that unholiest of unholies then you are dead to me. that may or may not be of concern to you; i don't like certain people, certain people don't like me.

remember -- you're only flaunting your shit. i don't like public displays of annoyance or the virtual variety. don't make other people's lonely misery worse by showcasing your success in interpersonal relationships. i've grown quite fond of my loneliness and if you make me question my love for it then words will be had. also i'il shave my #$%!@, put !@#$% on my @%#!#, and *#@!#$% you in the @#$%.

fuck commercially fabricated "holidays". rover red rover let russel stover bend over while i shove a chocolade-covered boot up his ass. it's not called the hershey highway for nothing russ.


jenny said...

here you go reminding me of that annoying day. thanks. i've been walking around town pretending people just like hearts. like, very much. as far as i'm concerned tuesday is just a day like all the rest of them.

how about getting drunk? ;)

Phillip said...

sorry to bring attention to something you had gratefully forgotten about/ignored. actually i'm fond of my bitterness for the day. i can igonore most other "special" days (my birthday, christmas, easter, etc.) but this particular one i enjoy frothing about.

alcohol -- the great panacea.

Ian McGibboney said...

Man, you must have REALLY hated The Times this week! They had some of the smuggest love stories ever. I might do a post on some of them, on account of how unintentionally hilarious some of them are: "I was seven months pregnant (and, naturally, single)!"


bunny said...

Ah, usually I am with you in the angry and bitter category, but this year...well, this year I'm tempted to celebrate the darker side of love by having unhealthy, inferior and humiliatingly empty sex with the ex. Nothing says Valentine's Day like a full-on celebration of codependent insecurities motivating you to cling to the obnoxious sack of poo you won't get rid of because, God forbid, you might have to be alone.