::Valentines Day is for Suckers::

How to Cope with Saint "you'll never be loved and aren't good enough for life" Valentine's Day::

So Valentine's Day is approaching. Usually I would be filled with angst and disgust. My last Valentines Day was spent at the Holiday Inn drinking a 40 oz out of plastic champagne flutes [say what you will but I am a classy broad] only to get dumped the next week. However I have high hopes for this year's big V-day celebration. Wish me luck.
For the rest of you, who find themselves alone, bitter and wondering if one day you will turn into that old woman that eats cat food/ that old man that still goes the bars and checks out underage girls...this is for you.

I. Most of that chocolate sucks anyway
Like a great man once said..."life is like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're gonna get." Pure poetry. So true. Most of the chocolate in that "assorted" box sucks. Like most of life. You spend all morning taking little tiny bites out of each one, just to find out that it's caramel, or has pecans or some other weird nut in it you don't like. By the end of the day your face is breaking out from all the sugar, you feel like a fat ass from eating the whole box, and in the most dangerous of situations, you may even find yourself in the emergency room, having learned you're allergic to pecans. Who knew?

II. Lingerie will give you the Hives

Let's just be frank here. Anything made out of any other material but cotton, should not be touching your vagina. It's just a recipe for disaster. I'm tired of everybody pushing those damn "sexy Valentines day" god awful lace contraptions on me. I'm not wearing red lace thongs with matching red thigh highs and garters. I'm not working on Hunts Point giving out blow jobs for $20 and getting bitch slapped by some dude that goes by the name of ‘Slim Johnny” and hasn’t used toothpaste since 1978. Just because some man/marketing company/general perv thinks red lace is hot, I refuse to subject my vagina to synthetic fibers. Let me be home alone in my Hanes Her Way bloomers, on my couch, comfortably watching re-runs of the Sopranos. Let those other dumb broads itch their crotches all night… Pass!!


III. Speaking of sex...

Why do people feel the need to "experiment" on Valentine's Day? Who needs chocolate mocha pudding dripping off their butt cheeks? Who needs to be spanked with some heart covered leather whip? Just because you put hearts on it, doesn’t make it cute. That shit still hurts. If you're into that, do it the other 364 days a year. Don’t just wait for this one night, to come and surprise me with all your crazy kinky sex store supplies. I like to know what I'm getting into from the start. There's nothing worse than using some dumb holiday to "try new things." I never want to hear "you know normally I wouldn’t suggest this...but since I took you to see that gay ass Mandy Moore romantic-comedy and you’ve got me all hot in your red lace thongs… I think we should __________ [use your imagination.] Ummm...next.


IV. Hallmark is the devil

If I get another "you are the love of my life" card, god help me. Who writes this shit? "My world was incomplete until I found you." Ok spare me. We're all adults here. You know damn well all those cards are written by some meth addict who's been up for 2 weeks, getting 50 cents a word...just writing random shit to get enough for a re-up. All those poor men wandering aimlessly around the store with this dead, blank look in their eyes. Its torture I tell you. It never means anything. You pick either the a. prettiest card [if you're a metro-sexual], b. the most expensive card [if you're a status seeking baller type or c. the cheapest card [if you're most people.] and that's it. There's no thought involved. Save your $2.50 and write me a letter.


V.50 % of marriages end in divorce

So you're stuck at home and all your married/couple friends are out wasting money at some over-priced French place, drinking dry ass wine and trying not to argue for one night. Take this comforting piece of advice...chances are, they're not going to make it anyway. All those balloons and flowers and cards and chocolates....and next year they're going to be crying on your shoulder as they go through their divorce proceedings. You just play your odds. Stay at home with your take out Mexican food, and "recreational" drugs. Dance by yourself to some old Inxs...and love your life. Love your self, and your career and your freedom. February 14th ends at midnight, and then its back to their dry, stale, loveless lives. Laugh at them. You always were the smarter friend.
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