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Friday, February 11, 2005 · posted at 2:23 PM

Allow me to introduce you to my pukey face.

And it starts. In the mail I received my catalog for RedEnvelope appropriately titled “Gifts for Valentine’s Day 2005.” 35 pages of lovey-dovey couples, sinful gifts (gourmet body paint, “get-lucky dice,” and kama sutra kits), and many, many pretty shiny things. If anyone says mail-order catalogs were not created as convenient porn, that person obviously does not get the Tiffany’s gift guide (as an aside, I think Tiffany’s is highly overrated, but gosh darn if they don’t make some pretty shiny things)

Starting in January, after all the red & green merchandise has been slapped with a 75% off sign (my 2005 Christmas cards will have a 2004 copyright on them), the consumer is inundated with red and pink and hearts and chocolates. Just shoot me now.

Perhaps this is the alternative hypothesis to why I avoid the mall like a sandaled black foot during this time. It’s not that I‘m broke from the holidays or burnt out from shopping (is this possible?)… it’s really that I’m afraid that my pukey face (you know the reflexive nose-scrunching, gag-producing, tongue-sticking out, “eww gross” face people, namely single people make at the site of Valentine paraphernalia) will permanently freeze in that position after seeing all the hearts and that darn 4-letter word plastered all over the place.

Would I feel like this if I had someone to shower me with flowers, teddy bears and pretty shiny things? Of course! Because it’s ridiculous and Valentine’s Day is just a stupid Hallmark Holiday and I know this regardless of my relationship status.

Yeah of course we know this is not true (see bandwagoner). If I was getting fluffy heart slippers, or Happy Feet slippers for that matter, I doubt I’d be saying, “Damn my boyfriend, he’s too romantic. Why couldn’t he be less attentive? Why couldn’t he have bad taste in picking out something I’d really enjoy?!”

Flashback to times when I was the less-than-enthused recipient of stuffed animals, chalky conversation hearts and dirty, paste-constructed paper cards. Come to think of it, have I gotten a Valentine since then? Apparently, my romantic history peaked way too soon at the young age of seven.

Romance is definitely in the eye of the beholder, and there’s a fine line between "awww, how sweet" and "ewww, how stalkerish." There’s an obvious bias where, if you’re looking for romance - you can find romance even in a gift like a glass rose (okay, I’m definitely taking it too far right there. The desire for romance should never overrule the foundation of taste).

So maybe the trick is to become hypersensitive and attribute everything to romantic intention. Trucker yielding right of way to me? Oh he wants me. Coworker refilling the paper in the printer? Blatant symbol of affection. In fact, I think the deli lady slipped an extra tomato in my sandwich the other day... could it be true love?

I can’t wait until the Target shelves are lined with leprechauns, four-leaf clovers, and the color green.



	Friday, February 11, 2005 · posted at 2:23 PM Allow me to introduce you to my pukey face. And it starts. In the mail I received my catalog for RedEnvelope appropriately titled “Gifts for Valentine’s Day 2005.” 35 pages of lovey-dovey couples, sinful gifts (gourmet body paint, “get-lucky dice,” and kama sutra kits), and many, many pretty shiny things. If anyone says mail-order catalogs were not created as convenient porn, that person obviously does not get the Tiffany’s gift guide (as an aside, I think Tiffany’s is highly overrated, but gosh darn if they don’t make some pretty shiny things) Starting in January, after all the red & green merchandise has been slapped with a 75% off sign (my 2005 Christmas cards will have a 2004 copyright on them), the consumer is inundated with red and pink and hearts and chocolates. Just shoot me now. Perhaps this is the alternative hypothesis to why I avoid the mall like a sandaled black foot during this time. It’s not that I‘m broke from the holidays or burnt out from shopping (is this possible?)… it’s really that I’m afraid that my pukey face (you know the reflexive nose-scrunching, gag-producing, tongue-sticking out, “eww gross” face people, namely single people make at the site of Valentine paraphernalia) will permanently freeze in that position after seeing all the hearts and that darn 4-letter word plastered all over the place. Would I feel like this if I had someone to shower me with flowers, teddy bears and pretty shiny things? Of course! Because it’s ridiculous and Valentine’s Day is just a stupid Hallmark Holiday and I know this regardless of my relationship status. Yeah of course we know this is not true (see bandwagoner). If I was getting fluffy heart slippers, or Happy Feet slippers for that matter, I doubt I’d be saying, “Damn my boyfriend, he’s too romantic. Why couldn’t he be less attentive? Why couldn’t he have bad taste in picking out something I’d really enjoy?!” Flashback to times when I was the less-than-enthused recipient of stuffed animals, chalky conversation hearts and dirty, paste-constructed paper cards. Come to think of it, have I gotten a Valentine since then? Apparently, my romantic history peaked way too soon at the young age of seven. Romance is definitely in the eye of the beholder, and there’s a fine line between "awww, how sweet" and "ewww, how stalkerish." There’s an obvious bias where, if you’re looking for romance - you can find romance even in a gift like a glass rose (okay, I’m definitely taking it too far right there. The desire for romance should never overrule the foundation of taste). So maybe the trick is to become hypersensitive and attribute everything to romantic intention. Trucker yielding right of way to me? Oh he wants me. Coworker refilling the paper in the printer? Blatant symbol of affection. In fact, I think the deli lady slipped an extra tomato in my sandwich the other day... could it be true love? I can’t wait until the Target shelves are lined with leprechauns, four-leaf clovers, and the color green.	Recent Posts One night stand. Most women think it's completely... Just say no and other taglines. Let me introduce y... Anything you can do I can do better. I can do any... How old would you be if you didn't know how old yo... Dear Abby... Due to a series of unfortunate event... Regina: But you're, like, really pretty. Cady: Tha... I always feel torn when the bigwigs come into town... We're all whores. "I'm not a whore," you say, and ... So, can the mind actually ever be free from fear? ... GLINDA I've heard it said That people come into ou... Morning news babie goose ryan bluemouse daves son dawntaught desiree diorama emily escadawg galveric high entropy invisible cube jepgato kyellow lilly mhuang mogbert nudream starfish + coffee verbivore Archives March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 January 2007 March 2007 April 2007 November 2008

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