Stupid Valentine's Day. I know it's my favorite holiday and all, BUT THIS YEAR IT'S STUPID. It was last year, too, watching all those heifers at work get flowers. I did already get a lovely Happy ValenTIME's Day text from Hulk, which is every girl's dream.
If you'd like, instead of stupid V Day, we could talk about my ass, and how much it hurts from doing all that work out-y stuff the other day. Yesterday I could not work out, as I had a happy hour after work. Say "work" one more time.
In fact, that table was more than full, we were all totally crammed in there, and this photo makes it look like four of us went to happy hour. It's just like yesterday's picture where the park looked empty when in fact it was teeming. Look at those happy men back there at the bar. I'll bet they're all set for Valentine's Day. Just recently a man told me that men have side-by-side friendships. Women have face-to-face ones (see the woman at my table), while men sit next to each other and barely speak.
That spells fun.
I had cranberry and soda at the happy hour, which also spells fun, because I had to come home and work. Freelance work. I better get rich offa all this work. Say "work" one more time again.
Oh, and we had happy hour on a Monday because one of the Alexes is leaving. The one with long dark hair and the tiny waist, do you know who I mean? I'd try to Google a photo of her from my past posts but I'd have to Google "Alex" and that'd narrow it down. I fuck my own self up with my hilarity.
My epitaph has been written.
In the meantime, something is wrong with Edsel.
Here is an unretouched photo of him from this morning. Dudes, he WILL NOT go outside unless I go with him. He cowers and shakes and acts horrified. Do you think those goddamn gaybors scared him or something? I know he goes to the back fence and not only barks at Jackie, their beleaguered dog who has to wear fancy thick collars, but he also barks at the children and dog he sees two yards over in the corner of our yard. Maybe THEY did something awful to him.
Or maybe he's just a nutbar.
His Prozac does not seem to be making a difference.
Oh, but speaking of my neighborhood, I got an alarming Next Door alert yesterday that this crazy guy is back living with his parents. He tried to murder someone, unprovoked-like, and he's also known for trying to walk into people's houses. He was in jail but now he's out. He lives about four blocks away.
Good. That's relaxing. At least I have old Simper Fi-do, here, to protect me.
What should I do about Edsel? I've already gone to the vet. They didn't find anything physically wrong with him. Poor sensitive-flower Eds.
I'd better go dry my hair--it got cold here again and my grandmother's words, that going outside with wet hair gives you tuberculosis, still ring in my head.
I hope you all enjoy your stupid stupid stupid flowers and stupid love and adoration and candy, and I can't wait till you put it all on social media so the unloved can enjoy all your glee. You big giant fuck ass.
P.S. My aunt did send me some very cute silver dangly earrings with a little heart on the end for V Day, so yay! I will wear them to mock my own unlovable self.