Yo Valentines Day. I take issue with you. I hate you. I wish you never existed. YOU CAN’T SIT WITH US.
Seriously. Once a year, for about a good few weeks it seems that every females hormones go into fucking bat shit crazy love over drive. Valentines Day Fever takes hold. And there is no escape. Emotions range from:
*Strong black woman voice* psh I don’t need no holiday to tell me who loves and DOES not love me.
I mean *sniffle* someone has to want to be my Valentine right?
Fuck it. I’m going. To. Fuck. Everyone. And that will be better than ANY roses and ANY chocolate. BOOM. Suck my twat Hallmark.
VALENTINES DAY TURNS EVERYONE ABSOLUTELY CRAZY.
My dad spends HUNDREDS of dollars every V-Day on an array of “I’m a good husband gifts.” And I’m always just like…really though? Firstly if you love the one you’re with you should you know, not need a holiday to tell you when to buy them presents. It should be natural. And out of you know, love. Not because of crazy mass marketing and consumerism breathing down your neck.
Every aspect of Valentines Day is one giant cheese fest. It just makes me think of the Mid West, mall food, and Jared commercials. It also makes all women seem to be fucking chocolate zombies.
ZALES WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?:
Nobody wants faux chocolate jewelry.
Red roses are the ugly red headed step child of the flower world. No but really. Who likes red roses? Raise your hand right now and openly tell me that a dozen red fucking roses gets you going.
Also. Candy hearts – much like their cousin candy corn, you either reallllly like eating them or think they are the most foul items on Earth. They are kind of cute though. So I’ll let them live.
I am sorry world. I am sorry that I sound like such a love hating fucker. But it isn’t love I’m mad at. I swear. It’s those nasty ass heart shape boxes of chocolate. Look. I like chocolate JUST fine. But A. No one needs a box of it bigger than their front door. B. Half of the chocolates are absolutely fucking rank.
Moving right along to other gifts that people think are amazing and just fail miserably:
WHAT THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?!?
Ok like. It is kind of on paper a good idea. But. I hate melon. Like I really fucking hate cantaloup. The thought of getting a basket of grapes and cantaloup pretty much sounds like: taking my SAT’s over again, then taking my road test, then taking The Presidential Fitness test (remember that shit) and then being told I had to watch a Frasier marathon. And YES I know you can get an assortment of fruits but then what the hell is said person supposed to do with that thing? This isn’t a Disney movie. I am not Little Red Riding Hood. NYC Subways are no place for open baskets of fruit.
I just. Valentines Day. I can’t with you.