Happy St. Valentine’s Day Massacre

As you all can tell, I’ve learned how to use the strikethrough function in HTML. It’s the best invention since sex sliced bread. I hate abhor despise detest tolerate Valentine’s Day since Nate’s into it and I like the goodies he gets from school. Otherwise, it’s a fucking useless “holiday.” I appreciate nice things. I appreciate people who do nice things but why oh why must it be limited to one day a year? I’m not the kind of girl woman who focuses on the material aspect of a relationship. If you want to give me a gift it should be in the form of sex beads, sex books, or sex. Hot, mushy sex. None of these are limited by Valentine’s Day. And hey, if you don’t do any of the above, I’ll assume you’re treating me to sex like a decent human being and are sharing your life with me, its ups and more downs, and generally being my friend and lover. I’ll assume you kiss me and feel me up hug me on a regular basis, hang out on the couch and watch movies, laugh with me and at me, lend me your shoulder as I lend you mine, and remember our special times that have nothing to do with a holiday, but everyday things that mean much more. The only other redeeming quality of V-Day is it reminds me that AZ and I met after the blessed holy day of I’m-giving-you-a-card/flowers/candy-so-you’ll-still-be-my-girlfriend/boyfriend. 14 years. Damn, that’s a long time to know that cranky bastard that sonofa... that porcodillo one of my best friends. Not quite half my life sure has hell feels like an eternity sometimes. So, ya’ll enjoy your day and have a Happy St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.