Many things divide this country down the middle: gun laws, spanking children, Bill O’Reilly’s sex appeal, keeping a cat in the house — but I think perhaps Valentine’s Day is only a few teen girls away from being unilaterally reviled. Can I get an amen?!
Or deny it, I won’t believe you.
I’m an enthusiastic pollster and just shouted, “Who hates VD?” at Gate A36 at the Denver airport and got at least eight high-fives, three woeful nods, a crotch scratch from a flight attendant (they scratched themselves, not me, perv) and a dry-heave from the head coach of the baseball team I’m traveling with.
Of all the holidays I can think of right now, while I’m drunk at the airport waiting for a red-eye flight to the schlong of America (Florida — oh SNAP, Fantz), the only one that actually pisses people off outside of Valentine’s Day is Columbus Day. And that shitshow’s not even a holiday any longer. Hallmark does not make Columbus Day cards and if they do, I can’t look it up because I’m on a plane, muthahfuckah.
Nobody actively hates Arbor Day. Nobody loses their shit at dinner and whines, “GAWD, seriously?! Presidents Day again? I. Can’t. Even.”
I know actual, really-real people who couldn’t give a flying fuck about Flag Day or Halloween, but I don’t know a soul who’d spend weeks pissing and moaning about either. And yes — Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s Eve can be their own separate hells, but that’s probably your family’s fault. (Let’s be inclusive: you’re in your family so it’s possible you’re the problem.)
Just the tip: you can always spend that time at your house downing a box of wine, eating Chinese food and binge-reading “Sherlock Holmes.” And no, you can’t spend the holidays with me.
Let’s really Boulder-bubble down on this question, you know, really meditate on it: What’s to love about Valentine’s Day in its current state? Single people hate it because it reminds them they’re alone. Everywhere you swing your poncho ’round, there’s some asshole corporate decoration telling you, “Where are our grand-babies? Yah killing yah muthah! Why can’t you find a nice girl, Avi? And your eggs are drying up, Heather, there’s only dust bunnies and tumbleweeds down theyah!” (I wish I were Jewish.)
Coupled-up people hate Valentine’s Day because they have to make reservations at formerly-expensive-and-now-offensively-priced restaurants they’d never normally go to if the next two months of sex weren’t on the line.
I believe in my heart, in my bones, and in my belly full of — er some kind of rose wine that comes in a can, please kill me, but only after I have another, kind steward — the only people who really like and look forward to Valentine’s Day are elementary school kids who make adorably decorated boxes to house Simpsons’ cards with trains on them that read, “I choo-choo-choose you,” and people who’ve been in relationships exactly three months. (They still like each other, are on their best behavior and look forward to boning three to five times a day.)
Whaddaya got, Fantz, the woman taking the pro-side (over there –>)? Pretty heart decorations? I got a decoration for you right here that a Tinderloin sent recently.
Insert hand-drawn dick pick.
That’s some truly romantic shit. Gonna book the VFW for my upcoming nuptials to Dickie Dongpikopolis!
And in the spirit of the stupid, Hallmark-invented season, all my Tinderloins out there are getting a topless picture of me.
Insert photo of mid-thigh down.
Shit’s gonna sweep the nation.
If you’re feeling salty about the day, sidestep it gracefully like I did — like prancing over a poo on the sidewalk — and do something totally different. Past 10 years has been the Boulder International Film Fest, but when I heard they’d shifted it back to align with Sundance, I was all, “VD+Tampa=Spring Break, where my Señor Frog swag?”
Then the pilot asked me to return to my seat.
Look, fuckers: drink Friday, do your normal thing on Saturday, Sunday stay home with God and Miss Marple and then BOOM! All kinds of chocolate will be on sale on Monday. Choco-Monday is the new VD. Regardless of what you think of Valentine’s Day, gun laws, spanking children, cats in the hizzle or Bill O’Reilly’s sex appeal — my wine in a wee shampoo bottle has arrived and I forgot what I was saying.
Oh. Chocolate Monday. That’s right: CM is the new VD. And CM makes everybody DTF. (What’s DTF stand for, Fantz?)
Reat Jeanine Fritz’s “I’m Not There” column every Monday in the Colorado Daily. Stalk her: twitter.com/J9Fritzy.