I Love You This Much. Take It or Leave It.

I'm not big on Valentine's Day.  I suppose there is nothing inherently wrong with a day when couples are required to be nice to each other, but it really doesn't do anything for me.  Mostly, it just seems like a lot of work.

In grade school, I had to spend, like, minutes filling in the "To" and "From" bits on my valentines, and that was when no one expected anything more than a posterboard 2" by 3" card with some Disney character on it.  Now, judging by Pinterest alone since I don't have kids, it looks like the Martha Stewart industry has started a competition to see how over-the-top kids' valentines can be.  If it doesn't have candies, live animals, or lasers, it just doesn't make the cut and you suck as a parent.  So, you know, no pressure.

As an adult, there's the live-long conundrum of:  spend a lot of money on cliche crap, or feel like a loser because you have no awesome photos to make your Facebook friends jealous.

BUT, I do feel some pressure to do some "holiday" something, and I want to be proactive about it.

So instead of asking my friends to "be mine," I'm just going write "MINE" on their foreheads.  With a Sharpie.

Via

Though if I were to give out valentines, I'd probably choose one of these.

(True:  I never wear colors associated with a holiday, because I'm contrary that way.)

Fast Times at a School That Would Probably Not Prefer to Be Associated With This Blog

A good friend of mine from high school is having a baby in the not-too-distant future (ha, what else could it be?  Twenty years?), and it's got me remembering stuff.  So, join me on a walk down memory lane--if you dare.

I went to private high school.  Most of the students boarded, but there were a few of us "day students" who lived close enough to not have to live on campus.  We had our own lounge, and off that lounge was a small glass room nicknamed "the cubicle," which was just down the hall from the locker rooms assigned to the day students.  The cubicle had enough room for about four people comfortably, but we usually crammed about eight in there.  That's the boring part.

The interesting stuff is what we witnessed, safe on our side of the glass.  We saw break ups, make-ups, and make-outs.  We saw drama on a level that just isn't possible anywhere but a high school where most of the students live together (with teachers!) with no access to cars.

On one memorable occasion, however, the drama breached our safety glass.

A teacher stormed down the hall, coming from the boys' locker room, and slammed open the cubicle door.

"Who has been misusing their genitalia?!"

I honestly don't recall a single other time when all of us were simultaneously silent.  Cue astonishment and absolute confusion.

Eventually we figured it out:  someone in the boy's room missed the urinal.  Which was disgusting, but not nearly as bad as we had originally assumed.  Even better, none of us were guilty of the transgression--not this one, anyway.

But I do remember thinking, This is high school.  Those of us who aren't wish we were.


(True:  It was a special sort of high school I went to.  After I graduated and was legal to drink, I got conned into playing poker with my old high school teachers.  They got me drunk and won away all my money.  But I got an A for effort.)

Defensive Karaoke Part Three: Ew.

Short post today, because my To-Do pile is so large it's literally (not figuratively) spilling off my desk.

New Year's Eve:  I worked the karaoke.  It was a pretty normal night, if somewhat busier than normal.  The Squeeze and some friends were there, which is always fun, expecially since it means people are less likely to try to lick my ear.

I've mentioned before that my station is near the ladies' room.  It's a one-seater and locks from the inside.  For the first time, I actually had to grab a guy by the scruff of his neck and haul him away from following his lady-friend in.  Instead, they proceeded to make out and...  Well.  Clothes pretty much stayed on, thank goodness.  They started at nine p.m.  I left at quarter to four in the morning, and they were still going.  Ew.

Chapstick, anyone?


(True:  I don't really get this whole kissing someone on New Year's Eve thing.  I mean, fine if you're out with someone, but if you don't have a date, it just seems like a good way to get cooties.)

Trapper is cootie-free and looking for love.