Love stinks -- yeah, yeah
Valentine's Day is really a day for love's refugees -- the single, the spurned, and those of us pining in that arid limbo between friendship and romance, with a who-knows-what-the-future-holds? dangling like a big, juicy carrot in front of us. With this holiday, we can sit back in our recliners, steaming cup of bile in hand, and survey the labor camps of illusion and self-deception where people who are "in love" toil without rest. If only they could see how they look, we snarl with satisfaction.
With the scales tossed from their eyes for just this Valentine's weekend, they'd be giving the appropriate gifts and going on the right kinds of dates -- the ones that showed the true diseased foundation of their feelings for each other. "Honey," one would say to Insignificant Other, "it was the smell of fresh blood from old wounds that brought us together into this ravenous feeding frenzy of self-esteem we call our relationship. Let's mark the occasion with a trip to the Dallas Aquarium, where we can witness the shark feedings on Friday and Sunday at 2:30 p.m. or the piranha feedings Saturday at 2:30 p.m." Standing in front of the tank as merciless sea hunters rip and tear at floating, tumbling hunks of raw meat, they'd lean in toward each other and rub noses playfully.
It's amazing how honesty about the present situation gives way to fears of a crumbling future. Once they admit that the spiritual light of their soulmate will, in fact, be dimmed by new wrinkles and extra pounds, won't a box of Godiva chocolates merely hasten the decay? Fact is, if they really loved each other, one would submit to all manner of painful voluntary treatments to stay pretty for the other. Look at the following statement as a test before you squander your quality years with someone so selfish: "Sweetheart, if you really love me, you'll let someone shoot botulism into your face to erase the unflattering lines of age." And if they reply "yes," surprise them with the gift that says, "I'm calling your bluff": a package of Microdermabrasion and Botox injections in two face-muscle sites from Silhouettes Wellness Center. This is part of a series of package deals at Silhouettes to pamper your sugar lump, but given that this is the only one that involves stomach-spoiling bacteria and face-scraping, we can only pause here on the list, give it a checkmark with our big red pen, and cry, "That's amore!"
But we sideline cynics saw it coming -- no amount of masochistic dedication can erase the inevitable ennui or still the wandering eye. Breaking up is hard to do. As the old saying goes: What's the difference between a widow and a divorcee? Discretionary income and a clean conscience. Let your loved one know that their, um, health is foremost on your mind with a MedicAlert bracelet, available in sterling silver and 14K gold. It speaks to doctors for Pookie if Pookie is delivered to the emergency room, paralyzed and unable to speak because of some most unfortunate, unforeseeably convenient condition. The bracelet also speaks for Pookie's Wuvvy-dove -- his or her mind turns to ambulances and EKGs when thoughts of love come pirouetting by.
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