You know how sometimes you hate something SO MUCH that you just want to stab it in the eyes with a thousand knives and then laugh a terrifying cackle while you stand over it and watch it bleed out? And if it was an actual person you would totally do the stabby-cackly thing without a second thought, even if it meant you’d have to go to prison for a thousand years, where you’d suffer a hell custom-made to your own personal demons, like 24 hours a day of forced cross-stitching and scrap-booking and Crock-Potting to a soundtrack of nothing but shitty Nickleback songs and Christian rock?
And you know how, even though everybody else around you is all smiles and hearts and candy, and they keep telling you to lighten up and embrace the love (which just makes you want to stab THEM, too), you’re STILL consumed with bitter disgust and blinding hate for this ONE THING that you HATE SOOOOO MUCH that it makes you want to murder everyone in the world?
Yeah. Well. That’s me and Valentines Day.
Every year around this time my frenzied, outraged rant begins. I write elaborate fantasies in which I slaughter the sheep who feed the St. Valentine’s Beast. I rage to anyone who will listen (and also some who won’t) about the ridiculousness of this so-called “holiday,” its commercialization of love and demeaning effects on people who dare to be unattached on February 14th.
I spout depressing statistics about wasted resources, pagan rituals, and suicide. I imagine myself gleefully piercing the hearts of the fake cherubs at the grocery store with their own arrows. When the local paper runs a “Cutest Couples” contest, I threaten to staple all their heads together.
Basically, I turn into a giant asshole for about a week.
But this year? This year, things are a little different. Because this year, I have this:
Happy Valentines Day, everyone.Stumble it!