Sunday, February 17, 2008

Valentine's Day: Can't Kill It; Can't Use Its Bones for Soup

When I was married, my husband (markrobinson.org) gave me an automatic pencil sharpener for Valentine's Day. Not surprising, as this was the same man who had gifted me a dictionary for my birthday. (For Christmas? A CD he wanted.) Need an impeccable pencil point or have a hankering for Sean Colvin? I'm your gal.

I haven't had a real Valentine since 2005, when my sheriff's deputy boyfriend at the time sent me a dozen red roses -- after I told him to please not send me red roses, as I don't really care for them (unimaginative, sorry), they generally don't smell since they're forced to bloom in hothouses, and he should save his money. (What did he do for my last birthday? Yes, roses. Two dozen this time. At least they were fragrant. Nothing from him for Valentine's Day, alas, as he has taken up with a woman 12 years his senior who counsels couples on using S&M to improve their relationship. How can I compete with that? After all, his computer mouse was always sticky, if you know what I mean. A shame, as without my contacts in, if he doesn't speak, he could pass for Julian McMahon. Sigh.)


True to form, this Valentine's Day was pretty crappy. Though I did get two bags of awesome loose tea from my friend Dave at work! I, myself, passed around chocolate hearts (dark, light and Reese's filled) to the masses.


My only Valentine's phone call? From an ex-boyfriend, ex-convict and current member of the California sex offender's registry. (Not to be confused with my Fed Ex stalker.) Yes, I like a man in uniform, even if it's a jumpsuit.


Having nothing to do after work, I took the time to finally clean up my office and remove the mildew-scented life-size dolphin, complete with red cowboy hat and talk bubble reading "For the love of God, help me!" to my boss's desk chair for a nice surprise.


Then I got my sad, Valentine-free self into my car and headed to my neighborhood corner store for some consolation wine.


When I emerged a few minutes later, a scene greeted me: The gangbanger couple who had been in the store with me had backed into my car and fled, witnesses said, leaving me with a $500 insurance deductible as my V-Day gift.


I toted my newly expensive wine home and cracked it open -- only to slice my finger on the foil.


But hey! At least two of the young male "witnesses" I spoke with said I had a nice smile!

1 comment:

Chebbles' Mama said...

That blows!!! I'm sorry your Valentine's Day didn't have any actual Julian McMahon action in it.