February 14, 2008

Love is in the air and I’ve got to find a way to bottle it because I’d make a killing.


Most years on Valentine’s Day, I like to dress up in a little diaper and walk around with a bow and arrow shooting at happy couples. I intentionally miss because I don’t want to go to jail or see anybody get hurt, but sometimes I’d just like to nail those nitwits in the forehead for rubbing their relationships in everybody’s faces. Other days, I ditch the bow and arrow but I stick with the diapers because it’s a lot easier than finding a water closet every time I have to go potty.


I want to know why St. Valentine got a holiday but St. Louis just got a crappy city.

Animals don’t have holidays. They just go about their business from one day to the next and sometimes I think they’re happier for it. I bet they’d be pissed though, if they knew they were missing out on so many presents.


I’ve got a tattoo of a heart. It was supposed to be a scarlet “A,” but the guy messed it up so I had him make it into a heart. It was that or a red tepee.


Love is evil spelled backwards to a dude that doesn’t know how to spell.


Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if blue was the color of love. Lots of romantic skies, I guess.


Valentine was the name of a girl I dated in the early Seventies. Everyone called her Val, but I called her Lenny. I dumped her the first week of February because I knew that one day the next week, everything was going to be about her. People should only get one day that’s “their day” and that should be their birthday.


I’d say that my perfect Valentine’s Day would be me, a special lady, a bottle of red wine, a steak dinner, two heart-shaped cupcakes, a box of high-quality prophylactics, and that special lady’s credit card so I can go buy two more bottles of wine after she falls asleep