Just Another Girl On The IRT

Freestyle musings from a pseudo-intellectual hellcat in high heels with Huxtable aspirations in a ghetto fab world. Proudly sponsored by bouts of bitchy mood swings, one too many swigs of Turning Leaf, the letters F & U and the madness that is the Rotten Apple.

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Location: Brooklyn, New York, United States

Work in progress. Neurotic. Daydream believer. Bookworm. Addicted to the arts. Stubborn. Spoiled rotten. Lefty in more ways than one. Pop culture whore. Equal opportunity hater. Kid at heart.

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Saturday, February 14, 2009

My funny valentine

Love is in the air, every time I turn around. And it makes me sick. Right up there with the start of swimsuit season, a trip to the gynecologist or fluorescent lighting in retail changing rooms, St. Valentine and I have never seen eye-to-eye and remain on non-speaking terms.

Showing contempt for February 14th usually gets one shoved into the conventional "bitter, lonely spinster" category of which I am a charter member, but it's a bit deeper than just being alone. The sheer competitive horsetrading aspect of watching women compete for attention by the metric of fluffy pink hearts and rose bouquets feels way retrograde. While it would be nice to have someone to cuddle up with and split a bowl of spaghetti alla carbonara, is it necessary to do so at the lobbying of Hallmark, Russell Stover and 1-800-Flowers?

According to the Beatles, "all we need is love," but breaking in my new vibrator will suit me just fine in the meantime.

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link | Shot from the lip by TriniPrincess at 9:09 PM |

Anonymous Bougie Applebum commented at 3/13/2009 11:43:00 AM~  

ROFL. I luv it. Couldn't have said it betta myself.

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