|LEST WE FORGET |
And I know that's another holiday's motto but it seems rather a propos when affixed to this vintage image of a 40-ish Woody Allen and a pre-pubescent Soon Yi Previn, the stepdaughter who would later become his wife. Yay love!
Whorray. It's Valentine's Day again, a day whose acronym is V.D. And if that's not a clue sent directly from God that this is a bullshit day that could literally kill you then I don't know what is. In fact why have I not blocked this event out of my brain entirely? That should have happened right after I posted this.
By now it is beginning to dawn on you that I am not a fan of the Valentine's Day. Not a fan of the trumped-up marketing hooey, not a fan of the grim highlighting of the fact that no matter what you do or who you're with (or without), at the end of this day you will ultimately wind up feeling underloved, underappreciated or just plain bitter.
This particular V.D. has the added kick in the arse of falling on a Friday, a day I historically like to ruin for everyone anyway because I am also not a fan of the dating. And ... well that's odd, I suddenly find I don't have anything more to say on the matter. Except this: I do hope I haven't spoiled it for those of you who still believe in happily ever after and voodoo and what-not. You know you crazy romantics are still welcome here anytime, I won't judge you
EDITOR'S NOTE: And yet, somehow, no one sent this little ray of sunshine any roses today.
MY NOTE: Although if they made roses that came with extra thorns and no flowers, I'm sure I'd get three dozen long-stemmed bouquets of them delivered right to my crotch.