Another Valentine's Day Massacre

I am approaching this weekend with no slight trepidation. As I’m sure you’re all aware, Sunday is the ironically abbreviated Valentine’s Day, which I will spend, as tradition dictates, sitting at the bar with my fellow All-Star Hyde Park Heartbreaks. (One of my favorite lines came a few years ago on VD, when Johnny Drunk And Gone walked in to the pub, looked down the bar, chock full of us lonely bastards, shook his head, and stated “Wow … a lot of lonely women in Boise tonight, huh?”. Tru dat, tru dat, as the kids say. Or used to … I don’t know. I’m old.)

It’s also the last three-day weekend before the longest holiday-less stretch of the year (at least for us gub’mint workers) … after this, I’m looking at 3 ½ months of brutal five-day work weeks. Sure, I’ve got furlough days I have to take, and there’s the occasional sick day I’ll throw in now and again, and maybe I’ll take a vacation day or four, so that in reality, there’s no way in hell I’ll work five days in a row, but still … the weight upon my shoulders is far greater than that of anyone else on the planet, right? Weep not for me, though, but consider the joys of your own life and let not another moment pass without telling a loved one of the happiness they bring.

Done? Good … I’m sure they asked if you were drunk again (hopefully you didn’t call your parole officer), and from what I know about the people who read this blog, you probably are, but don’t worry about that. That the words were spoken is what really matters.

On the plus side, I finally got rid of Jane F’Honda yesterday, and received a nice, crisp, one hundred dollar bill for her. That was a bit confusing, because a while back, I had the same folks haul away the Grey Ghost, and they only gave me fifty bucks for it. The Ghost was clearly the more valuable vehicle of the two (it’s a complicated formula, but all that’s important for this discussion is that there’s a “smoochosity” multiplier, and Jane F’Honda was pretty much a 0 on that factor, while the Grey Ghost was indisputably a chick magnet), so all I can really conclude is that if the automobile industry, a bellwether of the American economy, is that incompetent, it’s no wonder our financial system is so fucked.

I also found a $50 Home Depot gift card that I received for Christmas, which I will use to purchase those most romantic of Valentine’s Day autogifts: drywall mud and a 5 gallon bucket of Killz. With these in hand, I will continue to transform my laundry room into an idyllic nirvana where my whites will be whiter and my colors will never fade.

I guess trepidation isn’t really the right word. Maybe it was, when I typed that first sentence, but now that I’ve given it a bit more thought, it’s more like giddy anticipation about how much I can get done this weekend, what with the skiing, the home projects, the commiserating down at Lucky's Lonely Losers Lounge celebrating not being all wound up in some stupid relationship*, etc. Either giddy anticipation, or I’m drunk at work again.

*Keep an eye out for a rambling post rife with misspellings and directionless longings on Sunday, with a 3 am time stamp, and links to really sad songs.