2005-02-14 - 11:04 p.m.
So, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day. I haven't done a whole lot on V-Day since I was dating John. It was our anniversary because we started dating at the beginning of the spring semester the year we were both 19, and when you're 19 you're a big, fucking dolt and you fall back on the most available and easy-to-remember date between the end of January and mid-March (which is far too long to be dating without commitment talks when you're 19 and St Paddy's Day-as-anniversary does not a romance make). So, every year my daddy sends me this box full of chocolate and every year I devour all of it while simultaneously reading the nutritional information just to make myself all sorts a fucked up. I also masturbate a lot on Valentine's Day just because....well, duh, do you really want me to explain that to you? Bean-flickin' and chocolate truffles--fuck, yeah, man.
Valentine's Day also generally makes me think of all of the douchbags I've ever dated, the memories of whom which were single-handedly wiped out today when I found the most raunchily delightful valentine on my pillow (designed and produced by Ms. Courtney Davids). Raunch and douchbags--fuck, yeah, man.
Valentine's Day makes me think of all of the douchebags I ever wanted to date, but either didn't have the balls to ask or just couldn't quite get my hooks into. So this Valentine's Day, everybody have a masturbatory fest and a drink and cheers the following douchebags:
Andy S. (I'm going to use last initials because I feel that it's nicer that way)
Mike Assface (whoops, sorry)
Prison-hot Dave and Prison-hot Dusty (they don't count, they're married or pretty close to married)
Curt Mangan (he's a priest)
Jessica Simpson (shut up, she's so cute and she smells like donuts. I know it)
Nice work, fuckwads, look at what you're missing out on.
Happy Valentine's Day. Liesel and Jake, I miss you.
