Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Happy V.D.
This time last year:
I think I was lighting the one hundred candles that I had strategically placed throughout my room, in anticipation of having the woman of my dreams walk in and be completely stunned by the display.
A few hours before this last year, I was standing in one of the longest lines I have ever seen at See's Candies, waiting to get the perfect box of chocolates for the woman of my dreams (mostly chocolate with mint, and nothing with nuts.)
After that last year, I was in the second longest line I have ever seen at the flower shop, waiting to pick out the most perfect dozen roses for the woman of my dreams.
One thing has changed from that year to this;
the woman of my dreams.
A dear John letter from Scotland and about one hundred thirty six bottles of cheap whiskey later, I am here writing this post.
It's not that I'm bitter, I will just never be celebrating this "holiday" again as long as I live.
At this point I would rather randomly give all of my puny tax return to good divorce lawyers.
They are the only ones getting real satisfaction on this pitiful corporate excuse of a "national day of romance."
I could never have enough saliva to hurl at this whole day.
So... Happy V.D.
I think I was lighting the one hundred candles that I had strategically placed throughout my room, in anticipation of having the woman of my dreams walk in and be completely stunned by the display.
A few hours before this last year, I was standing in one of the longest lines I have ever seen at See's Candies, waiting to get the perfect box of chocolates for the woman of my dreams (mostly chocolate with mint, and nothing with nuts.)
After that last year, I was in the second longest line I have ever seen at the flower shop, waiting to pick out the most perfect dozen roses for the woman of my dreams.
One thing has changed from that year to this;
the woman of my dreams.
A dear John letter from Scotland and about one hundred thirty six bottles of cheap whiskey later, I am here writing this post.
It's not that I'm bitter, I will just never be celebrating this "holiday" again as long as I live.
At this point I would rather randomly give all of my puny tax return to good divorce lawyers.
They are the only ones getting real satisfaction on this pitiful corporate excuse of a "national day of romance."
I could never have enough saliva to hurl at this whole day.
So... Happy V.D.
