Ah, the joys of Valentine's Day . . . I for one will be supporting neither Hallmark nor the flower industry, thank you very much. In the strip below, Calvin might be young, but he shows wisdom beyond his years:
I am very happy to say that I have never bought a dozen red roses out of compulsion or "necessity" to make up for extreme cloddish behaviors, nor will I ever buy anyone a dozen red roses because they are as cliche as one can get and they are hackneyed. Show a little originality every once in a while!
There are a few movies out there that follow the pattern of boy meets girl, boy chases girl, romance blossoms, turmoil ensues, boy chases girl some more, reconciliation happens, continuation of romance, movie ends. I have to give a nod to "Say Anything" for its humor and the sheer amount of quotable material . . . and some fine supporting work by Jeremy Piven. What happens in the end, beyond what we are shown, after the seatbelt light goes off? John Cusack continues his rise to stardom and Ione Skye goes batshit crazy and as if by some sort of instinct being the spawn of a musician dates/gets involved with/marries every active musician on planet Earth.
That was a fun tangent, I think I am going to hit up all of my 80s music today from Bauhaus to The Smiths and reminisce about the good old days as highlighted by John Hughes and the like. Now where's my copy of "Better Off Dead" . . .
In the end it all supposedly works out, or are Calvin and Susie just perpetuating the myth and foolish behaviors. I'm not bitter and jaded more than usual, I swear.
Looks like there's more trainer time in my future this weekend, but that's ok. Pinkerton got outside yesterday and tried to get me to join, but it didn't fit the agenda. The open invite to run with Kevin out at Bear Peak is sounding tempting, I could go for some torture.
Happy Valentine's Day . . . jackass!
7 years ago
2 comments:
I was at a party recently where the lady of the house was proudly displaying three dozen red roses her husband had given her "for no good reason."
My girlfriend leaned over the flowers, inhaled deeply, and said:
"They smell like deceit."
Valentine's Day has always sucked and will always suck. Enjoy your torture.
Cliche or not, the timely application of roses can be particularly effective regardless of the voracity at which the female proclaims her distaste for them.
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