Friday, February 13, 2004

Countdown to Valentine's Day. It's a shame singletons must endure such tasteless displays of togetherness and put up with canoodling from their not-so-single friends. This issue was brought to my attention on, you guessed it, Sex and the City (it's fluff I just eat up.)

Singletons don't get presents during Valentine's. We can't throw engagement parties nor weddings in an attempt to receive sixteen useless toasters from Black & Decker. Honeymoon gifts? Bah, I barely have money for detergent. We don't have baby showers to make young women feel inadequate as they shell out hundreds of dollars on novelty doodle diapers and safety hatches for a baby they didn't have. We don't invite adults to children's birthday parties in an attempt to glean dollars and cents from friends who barely know your name (or your child's.)

If this is the life of marrieds, then I want to get married. You get presents all year round just for finding a mate you can pick up at some sleazy downtown truckstop. He can be Bob III, divorced, likes horses, high school drop-out, prefers the 69 position (i.e. the threesome of the '90s), hates tofurkey, enjoys basketball and wrestling, tends to avoid showering and his ex-wife, cries during Maid in Manhatten, happy during Nike commercials (for its "ingenious camerawork" and not, as I originally presumed, for its depiction of sinewy men), number of Nicotine patches on his arm: 4, number of Asian slaves on his farm: 8, number of cops he's tried to harm: 27, but he knows when to turn on the charm ("How you doin'?")

To think, all this bitterness came from my sister who attended her dumbass Valentine's Day classroom party but refused to share her Hershey's Kisses with me in the car. SHE HAD A WHOLE BAG! Stupid rotten middle school kids.

Oh, and happy couples rejoice (for what reason, I have yet to make up.) Here's a picture of the tanktop I dubbed:


"The Valentine's Shirt."

I should actually change that to "Get Laid Shirt." The only time Wore-A-Blue-Shirt-Today noticed me enough to say sayonara, loudly and tactlessly in the hall, was when I paired them with my sexy jeans after school.

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