What not to buy for Valentines Day

Dearest lovebirds of all shapes and sizes,

With the corniest scam holiday of the year fastly closing in on us, I thought I’d take the opposite approach to many websites, which list “good” Valentines Day gift ideas.  This could be because I hate Valentines Day.  Or that I take the opposite approach to just about everything.   If you could just hold on for one quick sec, while I finish this box of ice cream.   Much appreciated.

This post is strictly for the males out there, as you know,  I’ve always got your back.   I suggest you brace yourselves cowboys – because there’s a fierce wind coming your way and it’s about to blow your friggen mind.

1.  Stuffed animals.  Whether it be a GIANT red atrocity from the Walmart candy aisle or a Vermont Teddy Bandit bear, you are not to buy us any form of a stuffed animal.  Nevermind the bombardment of commercials tell you that this is a good idea, it’s a glitch in the Matrix.  It isn’t cute.  We aren’t going to sleep with it every night.  It won’t remind us of how much we love you, but rather the dilemma we face over where we can possibly place a  GIANT-bright-red-stuffed bear that doesn’t match anything.  Nothing. 

Exceptions: You are dating a 9 year old. 

2. Lotion sets.  Alright, how much lotion do you think we need exactly?  We’re already trying to rotate the twelve lotion sets we have from the past four Christmas, birthdays, Valentines Days, Flag days, and that bout with pneumonia  – none of which we even like the smell of to begin with.  Unfortunately, we won’t allow ourselves to throw away perfectly good lotion -so we are forced to hoard them in misery.

Exceptions:  You are dating someone with incurable dry skin.  An aligator, perhaps.

3. Pajama-grams.  First of all, what just happened?  Second of all, no.  Do you really think we want something from a company that says “this is the only gift guaranteed to get her clothes off”…..?  This is the worst thing you could EVER think of getting a woman.  Not only are these pajamas guaranteed to be butt ugly and itchy, but they come with additional accessories like “do not disturb” signs and flowered sachets.  gag.

Exceptions:  She is homeless and has nothing else to wear.

Guys, avoid these things along with anything that can be purchased from Walgreens of CVS and you should be alright.  For the most part.

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Summer Of Love: Booty Call 201

  “Well hello good Sir, come on in.” 

 

“Hi.  Yea.  Um.  is this the advanced Booty call 201 class?”

 

“Oh.  Actually, no.  but if you will now please place your hands where I can see them Chris Hansen from Dateline is going to reveal himself from behind the teacher’s desk and arrest you for the fact that you were trying to improve upon your booty call skills.”

 

 

Well, now that we’ve rid of all the creeptowns we can get back to business. Most of you are probably frolicking about, watching the Sex and the City Movie… But I really think you’re better off staying put.  You can stay in your city, have your sex, and I’ll be your Carrie Bradshaw.  I am capable of deep thoughts. In fact, I had some today.  Thoughts so deep that you couldn’t pry them out with tweezers the size of hedge clippers – and here they are for your viewing pleasure.  A possible second title to this blog could be:

 

Summer of Love: Simple Rules to Live by

 

1. ladies:  it’s a planetary certainty that with rising temperatures comes skimpier clothes and lower standards.  Maybe some of you have heard about the Nivea Cellulite Challenge – to sculpt your body slim for summer.  (which would be a great idea if a gel solution could actually achieve this result) But ladies, I am here to present you with an even bigger challenge.  I like to call it the “I’m not going to use summer as an excuse to be a whore” challenge.  Other than just looking like a whore, there many good reasons to not indulge in the daisy dukes and micros minis this season.  It’s called, the art of dressing for your body type.  I know that these clothing items flatter just about every mannequin you set your eyes on.  But lets remember the average waste size of a full grown mannequin is actually 0.  which I guess would be the absence of size altogether. If ever you feel discouraged, just start humming this song quietly to yourself: 

 

“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, if you dress like a who–ore, you most likely are.”

 

 2. men: would it kill you to take a little time to attend to your toes?  If you’re going to wear flip flops can we please try to clear up the athlete’s foot at the very least? its bad enough that they are unkempt and hairy.   I mean, what is it with guys’ feet anyway?  Why does every guy have to have a minimum of  one toe that has some kind of deformity?  Whether it be the mystery yellowish fungus or a gangly crusty toenail.  What’s up guys?

 

1.  
2. 3. tans:  nobody loves a tan more than me. and if a fake one can be done correctly, it is like a fine wine of vanity.  Lets just remember when using self tan, or spray on tan, or sunless tan – whatever – that your neck  actually is  connected to your head.  Lets also remember this tidbit of information when applying makeup.  Lets also remember there is a difference between a tan on your skin and an orange that you eat.  You should be able to distinguish a noticeable difference between this piece of citrus fruit, and your face.

    

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Daily Dilemmas: “Can You Trim My Hair?”

disclaimer:  dialogues featured on this blog may or may not be influenced by occurrences in my daily life, and they may or may not be exaggerated.

 

Him: can you trim my hair?  its getting kinda bushy on the sides.

Her:  yea, i can do it real quick before i leave.

Him: sweet.  thanks (puts towel around his shoulders and sits on the toilet)

Her:  (grabs the scissors, picks up the bathroom garbage can, and hands it to him)  here. can you hold this please so i can put the hair in it?

Him: not really.  its dirty.

Her: its dirty?

Him: yea.  dirty.

Her:  (ties the trash bag and sets it on the floor, then places the can back in his hands)  there. now its not dirty.

Him:  yes it is.  its been on the floor.

Her:  the floor? my floor is not dirty.  i’m a painfully tidy perfectionist, remember?

Him:  (begrudgingly places the can between his legs)

Her:  no.  (puts it back in his hands) i need you to hold it up higher so i can reach it.  otherwise, it defeats the purpose of having it there in the first place.

Him: i’m not holding it (hands it back to her)

Her:  you’re taking a shower after this, so what does it matter?  (hands it back)

Him:  (hands it back)  it matters because i don’t want to. thats why.

Her:  well you know what?  i  don’t really want to cut your hair when i’m running late but i am.  it’s not always about what you want.  i actually need you to hold the garbage can so it will be easier for me. 

don’t you think you’re acting a bit childish?

Him: so you’re calling me a child because i don’t want to hold a dusty, nasty crap bathroom garbage can that has pieces of your hair and chunks of gooey hair products and fiber bars stuck all over the bottom of it?

Her: oh, i’m sorry.  i’m sooooooo sorry that i have long hair and it gets all over everything.  last time i checked, you loved my hair.  would you like me to chop it all off?

Him: uuuuugh. 

Her: what?

Him: yes.  yes.  that is what i would prefer.  please cut your hair all off like a man so the garbage can won’t be gooey and hairy. 

then i can hold it.  then you can cut my hair.  then everything will be perfect and the stars will align,  hilary clinton go home, and evil dictators will acquire a soft spot and people everywhere will be free.

Moral of the story?

 

 

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