I’ve made my feelings abundantly clear about the most vile, smooshiest, downright saddest holiday known to man — Valentine’s Day.
I’m starting a new slogan: VD is BS.
Well, that might need some tweaking. But you get the gist.
If you choose to practice that holiday, then you are most likely a man who’s been lulled into a Hallmarkian delusion, which impels you to spends gobs of little green paper on absolutely pointless objects that are thrown away or decompose within a few days of said “holiday.”
Gentlemen, I think it’s time we address a missing holiday that each and every one of us deserves. A day when we shoot and miss the laundry basket with careless abandon, only to leave our clothes on the floor. A day of toilet seats standing at our attention, saying we will not sit on this great day.
Anti-Valentine’s Day. Our own Male-entine’s day.
It’s our day guys. Grab, take, embrace those activities that only our sloping-browed brethren held dear.
Eat Twizzlers and Mountain Dew for breakfast or drink from the milk carton while simultaneously spooning Kix into your mouth. Complete the always-tricky Chernobyl Dutch Oven — where you eat three cans of chili and two carne asada plates then seal up your doors and windows. Nuclear meltdown with quarantine for all those involved. Or maybe wear the same pair of jeans for nine days straight. Oh shut up, jeans barely even touch your skin.
We are morally, economically and guy-motionally responsible to fight back against the rampaging hoards of heart-string commercials and bank account holidays. Who are they to tell us how to spend our hard-earned, globally devalued dollar?
We have to embrace our own Male-entine’s Day. Why can’t we be wooed and treated as objects on our own meaningless holiday? What man wouldn’t be the envy of all his chums if he got a bouquet of beef jerky and a chocolate covered bottle of Macallan?
Then again, that unbridled testosterone really only exists in Hollywood buddy pictures and goofy sitcoms. If you really live like that, I think it might be time to head back to the fraternity house because I think they’re missing their favorite 37-year-old pledge.
I don’t see why we can’t just pick a random day during the year and make that our own personal Valentine’s Day. Flowers would be cheaper, you could get a dinner reservation, and it means that you actually chose to spend time with the person you care about and didn’t get guilted into spending time with a loved one.
Cause Christmas already does that.
Filed Under: Doorman Diaries