Draw Back Your Bow

Happy Crass Commercialism Day to one and all!

Erm...

I mean, Happy Valentine's Day.

I'm doing much better with the whole idea than I did last year. Last year, I was fresh off a dumping that came completely out of left field. I became addicted to peanut butter cups. I demanded stuffed novelties. (Okay, I'd still enjoy a stuffed novelty, I ain't gonna lie.) But the breakup wasn't unexpected this time, really, and most of the time I'm fine with being single. I do look forward to meeting this theoretical man who may possibly enrich my life, tolerate my drunken stumbling, mood swings and irresponsible spending because said person will realize I am also loyal, generous, up for just about anything, and wickedly smart (a wicked smart-ass). But, what I do have, right now, is a bunch of friends who think my drunken stumbling is hilarious, enjoy the witty writing and ranting that comes from my mood swings, and encourage my irresponsible spending, as well as enjoying all the other good stuff about me. A lot of people don't have the quality of people I have in my life, so I am grateful for that. And, hey, my grandmother sent me a Valentine and $10, and the kids I babysit made me handmade Valentines with crayon bits taped to them, so I can "write something you remember about [them] so [I]'ll remember it forever."

So, if you enjoy spending four times the normal going rate for roses and breaking people's knees in parking lots of expensive restaurants to get their reservation, enjoy today. If you need me, (or Joni Mitchell), I'll be in the bar.

Also, please note these choice highlights from Boston.com's photo essay on Valentine's Day:


Let the motherfucker burn!


This guy has NO game. And the AP is going to spread the word far and wide.