I love hearts.
Cartoon hearts, glitter hearts, clip-art hearts, tattoo hearts, bloody, beating human hearts complete with muscles, blood, ventricles, valves and such.
Wrap the bitches in ribbon and put them under my tree.
I obviously don’t hate Valentine’s Day.
Plus, it’s fun to gift co-workers conversation candy hearts that read things like, “toss my salad,” or “good for an under-the-table HJ.”
When I was single, it was an excuse to celebrate. Every calendar holiday deserves a celebration. A toast to the ol’ pickled liver. Why not celebrate Flag Day at the Whiskey Bar in the middle of June? Sept. 19 is International Talk Like a Pirate Day; like we aren’t going to face-plant in bourbon and suck down cigarettes like a bastard. (Because fatherless children chain smoke.)
So, celebrate good times (come on!). Let’s all celebrate and have a good time.
Kool, take your gang and shove it.
If I stood up in the newsroom right now and yelled, “Who hates VD?” and everyone and their mom didn’t raise their hand, I’d be a little concerned for their privates. Venereal diseases blow. I heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend, who… yada, yada, yada.
Now that I’m hitched, Husband and I celebrate our love by writing each other page-long love poems.
I jest. We plow booze and play dominoes like it’s Saturday night. Plus, the day itself is a big money-maker for Husband (he’s a stripper), so he always works. (He’s not a stripper, fools.) But I still get flowers and cinnamon bears and chocolate.
In Fritz’s anti-Valentine’s Day column over there <–, she suggests Chocolate Monday (CM) in lieu of Valentine’s Day because the crack is all on sale then. Solid point, duly noted, see you at Walgreens Monday, but why wait when you can French kiss sweet, sweet bonbons on Saturday?
As Fritz says, CM is the new VD. And CM makes everybody DTF. I don’t know what DTF means. My head is saying “down to fuck,” but my heart is saying “dispense the farts.”
I’m going with farts. Is chocolate gassy?
Yes, this holiday is either loathed or loved. And no, we can’t fix you here. But you have options. You can: drink and play with candy hearts, dine with others who over-the-blouse fondle lobsters and sensually feed each other unborn fish babies (roe, laymen), or you can pretend it’s just Saturday.
Look how that works out.
So when you say, why celebrate love on a Hallmark holiday when you should be celebrating love every day of the year?
I say, shut up.
Celebrate love and hearts every day of the year, and get a little extra credit on Feb. 14. If you’re single, buy yourself a shot of whiskey. If you’re in a relationship, make your lover a homemade valentine. And if you feel pressured by the holiday, then buy your significant other a pan and tell them to bake you a fucking cake.
Just the tip: For your information, hairdo, yes I lived in Florida (go Gators), which Fritz calls the “schlong of America.” But, I’d rather kick it schlong-style that live in the taint of America. Which I think is at Kanye West’s house. To be determined.
Read Christy Fantz’s “Fantz in Your Pants” column every Tuesday in the Colorado Daily. Stalk her: twitter.com/fantzypants