Here’s the Problem: I just had to cut my Grammy problem posting short to bring you BREAKING NEWS from my cold, shriveled, black heart –
It’s not because it’s Valentine’s Day. I’m all for love and and candy and flowers and a day set aside to make a fool out of yourself by trying to impress someone who probably doesn’t care about you as much as you care about them ( there’s no such thing as evenness in a relationship, so give in and give up).
Today sucks because Kara and I work in an office FILLED with ladies. It’s ladies as far as the eye can see – old ones, young ones, fat ones, thin ones, ones that like men, ones that like other ladies. It’s a lady extravaganza. And what does this mean? It means that poor little me, sitting in a cubicle next to reception is going to spend the next 8 hours listening to delivery men. Old, fat, ugly, depressed delivery men carrying obnoxious arrangements of flowers and chocolates and stuffed things.
Actual Problem: Real love isn’t showing off that you have real love. It’s waking up to an intimate surprise between you and someone that loves you only needs you to know that.
Actual Actual Problem: Fine. I’m in a pissy mood cuz it’s Valentine’s Day. Surprise!