And why is that donkey making my life so miserable? Is life so awful that we need some foolish holiday manufactured by a greeting card conglomerate so we can buy marked-up roses and dinner while being forced to listen to douche bags like Sting and assuage the concerns of our soul mate that, "yes pumpkin I do love you. Now stuff your face chocolates." Shouldn't our significant other realize that by listening to their drivel the other 364 days of the year is proof of love?
Expectations for this day are always higher than actual delivery. Once someone sets the bar on this holiday, the next must be bigger and better. Anything other than some ridiculous cirque-du-soleil-style-date is a referendum on the state of the relationship. Next thing you know there will be a secretary's day, oh wait that asshole already had that brain drizzle.
I guess I should just shut up, plunk down the cash and be glad that I'm gonna get laid.
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