Here’s The Problem: The worst day of the year is coming. I hate it. I hate it more than going to the gyno. I hate it more than getting waxed (not meaning to have a vagina trend here – it’s just sort of happening). I hate it more than when I had to go to the prom with my friend’s brother (He was paid. I know this. I know this like I know that Tom Cruise is gay.). I hate it more than I hate the guy who once told me that he didn’t know why he was dating me…. it was “just something to do”. I hate it – ok? So I’m giving myself 13 full days to prepare for the day where all the gals here at the office will get flowers from their boyfriends and I’ll get a card from my fake mother (ahem….you have 13 days here Mom).
Actual Problem: Convo between me and Kyle (my best gay):
KYLE: Wanna have the finest romantic dinner on VDay that CPK can give us?
KARA: Omg…..maybe. Will this make me want to kill myself more or less???????
KYLE: I’m hoping less. But I really can never tell with you until day of.