Enjoy Your Hallmark Holiday, You Sheep.

Happy Valentine’s Day. As I am sure this comes as no surprise I hate this saccharine induced pseudo hallmark holiday. The older I get the more bitter and resentful I get of this day. If you truly love someone you should not need some random date on a calendar to remind that person of your love. If you really do love that person they won’t need a reminder.

Valentine’s Day has always been a shit day for me. In 1989, I got stuck in this huge blizzard trying to get to work at Kmart. I took me an hour and a half to get to the Mart on a ride that normally takes at the most ten minutes. I get to the store and find that it is going to close in a half hour. My boss told me he called my house and told my mom I didn’t need to come in. Obviously this was way before cell phones. So, as soon as I got in I had to try to make my trek back home.

In, 1994 Valentine’s Day was the day I broke up with my long time girlfriend Jenny. I won’t go into the gory details and the breakup had been long overdue but it is funny how it all culminated on Feb. 14^th. These are just a few examples of the rotten times I have had on this day.

As for the present tense I guess I am lucky. I have someone to spend the day with and many do not. I am also lucky in that my wife also realizes that this day is bullshit. For the last couple of years we’ve spent Valentine’s Day at Chuck’s BBQ in Burbank with all of my friends.

We started the tradition as a way of thumbing our noses at the forced romanticism. So, our thinking is that we get everyone together, go to the least romantic restaurant we could find and have a good time despite the hallmarkiness of the day. Chuck’s loves us as we bring in about thirty people and Chuck even makes a special desert just for us. He also, lets us bring in our own wine. I went to the liquor store yesterday to stock up.

So, that is what Joyce and I will be doing tonight. I will have the chicken fried chicken, which is this deep fried chicken breast smothered in this rich southern gravy with mashed potatoes as the side. It is a heart attack on a plate and I only allow myself to eat it once a year. I have been dreaming of it for weeks. I will top that off with some Boone’s Farm or some other cheap wine to rinse my uncultured palate. If that doesn’t say Valentine’s Day I don’t know what does.

As a footnote, I want to tell Joyce Happy Valentine’s Day. I know spending the evening eating barbeque and drinking cheap wine with my drunken friends is not exactly her idea of a romantic night out. I appreciate her putting up with it and I want her to know that I owe her a nice meal at the restaurant of her choosing.