from 13 February 2017 (applicable to 2020):
(image credit: Tommy Siegel)
ah, Valentine’s Day.
wait…Valentines Day? with or without apostrophe? with, yes? I digress.
Valentine’s Day! a day when florists, card companies, candy-makers, and businesses that tell you to take your own bear and stuff it make so much money their pockets are legitimately lined with cash. no really! check the pocket of any Hallmark CEO and you will see that it has been neatly stitched with hundred dollar bills from poor bastards who are sure that – this year! – a piece of folded cardboard printed with a cartoon canidae saying “Hey There, Foxy!” will get them laid on a Tuesday evening in addition to the routinely disappointing second Thursday of the month special.
oh, to be one of these folk. the poor bastards, not the CEO with the wallet so fat his pants fall off, I mean. everyone wants to be the CEO, of course, because that guy is getting laid several times a week, and not just on capitalist holidays either. but no – to be one of those on the other side, clutching a bundle of gas station flowers and a box of what can only technically be called chocolates, praying for someone to just give them a bit of extra attention, maybe a longer hug, or a really fantastic kiss just once in their lifetime. a little desperate, a little sweaty – here is the hero of Valentine’s Day. let’s think about this person for a brief moment and raise a glass of whatever wine was on sale down at the liquor store this week to them, for they are us.
or not. I mean, that certainly isn’t ME. but if it’s YOU, please send me a PM, I’m free tomorrow evening after work.
bemused + nonplussed 