Valengine's Day

OK, so Valentine’s Day is coming. And it can’t be over soon enough for me!! Now before you go making up your mind that I’m some kind of feminazi, or just someone who doesn’t get anything for this holiday, hear me out!

So every day after New Year’s – and some ways before even – we have to endure commercial after commercial (get the not-so-indirect point there!) on TV and radio, billboards… and if you’re like me, and happen to not own a TV and listen to your own CDs in the truck, and are lucky enough to be spared the billboard scene, you probably still will visit a grocery store and get hit in the face with a million of those floaty heart balloons and more pink flowers than your optic nerves can process.
Shameless, I tell you!

And what are they all hocking? From the side of the road even (in case you are one of the evidently MANY suckers who either forgot—or refuse—to put any thought into the gift or the meaning of this day) where you can find limitless rows of identically stuffed cellophane blobs full of…

And yes, this is my point… Chocolate, flowers, candy, bath foof, even silky robes and fluffy slippers, maybe a cute stuffed animal—are these the ingredients that apply to our population? NO!!

When do you ever see pre-season tickets, beef jerky, baseball caps, magazines, leatherman tools, maybe even fishing poles and bait happily wrapped in camouflage plastic? Do they even make cellophane decorated with camo?
How is this day supposed to be anything other than Make Your Vagina Happy Day? It is completely geared toward the fluffier parts of us.


Think of it—chocolate to elevate that snappish, foul, after-work mood, soft fluffy things to tame the nagging tongue because you know you didn’t take out the beer bottles like she asked you to, and happy bath stuff to keep her occupied for a while so you can actually do what you’ve always wanted after your day at work: to rest in the quiet, maybe sit with your socks on with your pants unzipped on the couch, and nibble on cold pizza while perhaps flipping through the channels with the remote all to yourself… Ahhhh!!!

Well, there it is. Now I guess I can see why it is some people still go for this stuff. If I think about it on that level, how it may actually be more manipulative than I first thought, how maybe it’s all a ruse and WE are actually the suckers—I may even get a bit upset… if I could only muster up the will after using my chocolate-covered fingers to find the faucet through all this foam, and turn off the bath water…