I didn't work in this office building last Valentine's Day, so I had no idea that they bring in MINI BROWNIES WITH PINK FROSTING AND SPRINKLES to celebrate this retarded holiday. At 8:30 this morning, I found myself suddenly in the mood to celebrate.
Then later, after I just finished lunch, and went into the office kitchen to wash up. The skinny girl who always eats a salad for lunch was in there, next to the brownies. "Excuse me, Tiny, " I said, "I need more frosting." (I didn't actually call her Tiny, but I felt like it. Salad? Every day? Please.)
Anyways, this sugar coma reminds me that too much frosting in a bad thing, plus that pink dye probably gave me cancer of whatever body part processes feelings of hunger, confusion, and rage.
I fucking hate Valentine's Day.
Last year I went to QFC alone at about 8pm on Valentine's Day evening. I was headed to my boyfriend's house, but the people at the store didn't know that. Anyways, I grabbed two party pizzas, a pint of ice cream, a huge bottle of wine, and a bag of Doritos. (What.) The looks that people gave me when they saw what I was carrying around...it's like I had some sort of terrible face rash, like sparkly scabs on my forehead that wrote out SINGLE AND UNLOVABLE. I milked the pity. I gave strangers half-smiles as I shuffled around alone. "He still might call" I explained with my eyes. "I might not always be alone." I found a clerk and asked if the chocolate was on sale yet. He couldn't even look at me.
That was an awesome time.
I plan on spending V-Day on the couch, with a hangover, watching Battlestar Galactica, like it is any other winter Sunday. I'll avoid pink frosting until then; it is probably super gross to barf up after a bender.
Happy weekend, my Valentines!