To The Birds

Yes, yes. I know. Most people are, at the very least, vaguely excited by V-Day. But I'm not gonna lie. If I had my way, it wouldn't exist. Not around me. I don't really care what you do with your own time. That's your business. But just please, please don't take up mine with your sentimental. I'm not interested. Not even a little bit. I don't want any cards, chocolates, kisses...nothing. Just some peace and quiet. That's all I ask.

Honestly, I just don't get the whole Valentine's thing. Like, all of these girls are running around, twisting their boyfriends round and round their pinkies, and there's hearts everywhere. It's freakin' nuts.

And, well...do my fellow females honestly think that guys really care about you, just because they get you something for ChocDay (as I call it)? That what they get you is an accurate representation of how they feel towards you? 'Cause that's just ridiculous. A guy could be a total a*s and get you something for Choc. He could be a real sweetie pie and just honest-to-Gosh forget. Or, more often than not, they're a mixture of both. For the most part. Unforeseen variables and analytical hindrances might ensue in at any time, of course. After all, it is Planet Earth. People keep stamp collections. Nerds (in my book, it's a compliment, so chill) memorize the first sixty-five decimal points of pi. Men wear the same pair of underwear the very next day, just turned inside out. Women actually expect to find the love of their life on a reality show. Eight-year-old kids totter around with their thumbs glued to a cell phones, trying to act cool, trying to be grown-up, just like the rest of us. We have birds that aren't really birds. Not truly. They can't even fly.

Updated --- 3.14.2011