Please don't bring me flowers....anymore.

St. Valentine's Day. Men hate it because they are smart enough to know that no matter what they buy, they're gonna screw up. Women know that no matter what they ask for, men will screw up. How such an incredible lack of communication can continue to exist year after unholy year between couples that have been together since the dawn of time I cannot understand.

My husband is the perfect example of this communication malfunction. For years I have been adamant in my insistance that he not buy me flowers. They die. The pretty petals fall like snow onto the tabletop and lie there, stunned and confused. Terribly sad thing, the death of a beautiful flower. Painful to watch. Like plants >:/ He buys them anyways, the poor deluded man. Why? Because he has been brainwashed with sex by all the women before me, and apparently, that works. No matter how I try, I cannot convince him that flowers ain't cutting it for me.

Why does our society place such importance on watching beautiful flowers die a slow, wilting death, anyways? And by flowers, I mean the more they cost, apparently, the better. The more exotic, the more artistic the arrangement, the more the female of the species becomes intoxicated. I just do not get it. Why do men buy them? Well, duh. Why do women want them? Seriously. WTF?? One of my girlfriends once tried to explain to me that the beautiful flower symbolized his and her beautiful, sexual relationship. I asked her what it meant when flower petals immediately started hitting the table like dead flies, and she gave me a dirty look and stomped off in a huff.

So I continue to ask people...how does this translate to romance?? How is watching something spectacular wilt and wither and wail in silent sorrow supposed to be romantic? The metaphor is way lost on me. What I see...."Hey, honey, check this out! It's a hundred dollars worth of death! It symbolizes my dicks reaction to your controlling, manipulative ways, you antagonistic bitch! HAHA! HAAA!"

Really, what are people thinking??

Know what women should be saying? "Buy me jewellery. How's that for manipulative? That way, I can hock the damn thing after I catch you cheating on me, you thoughtless, insensitive bastard. HAHA! HAAA!"

What. Just sayin.

Happy St. Valentine's Day, people. I think..

Caffiend

Like most people, I love a nice hot cup of coffee to kickstart my day with. Or two. Or three. It's proving to be a bit difficult to control the addiction, though. By the time I get to work I'm so wired I'm bouncing. Which is okay, I mean, I have stuff to do, so I can burn that bounce right back down. After about three hours, when the bouncing has reduced itself to merely vibrating, it's time for a refill. Or two. Or three. And thus, the downward spiral into madness, mayhem, and serious addiction continues.
I have tried all the usual methods to control it. You know, alcohol, recreational drugs, electric shock therapy, heavy gambling. To no avail. Then I tried prescription drugs (side effects may include respiratory distress, heart failure, brain damage, spontaneous combustion, aggressive sexual predation...) to no avail. Then I got inventive, and tried acupuncture. Yoga. Herbal tea. Incense. Meditation. Bed of nails. Nothing helped.
Sheer desperation has resulted in my latest brainstorm...taking up extreme sports. My logic being to replace one rush with another. Wisely, I've decided to approach this idea with caution. Introduce myself gradually to the world of Extreme Sports. Which Wikipedia lists as any activity that results in death if an error is made. Right up my alley!!
Thus, I shall do a bit of thinking, and figure out what extreme sport suits me best.