In a statement that's likely to give impetus to the rapidly growing belief that I'm out of this world (down to earth on a casual conversation basis), I heart Valentine's Day!
Just kidding. Chill, I've never used the term "heart" and my masculinity will not be jeopardized in writing this blog. In fact, it will only be beefed up as I poetically share insights to the most frustrating holiday known to man.
In a time when money is tighter than Sher's botoxed face, I've decided to centralize the topic today, for the love of money, in addition to offering keen advice on how to win major points for marathon love making sessions to the break'a-break-a dawn y'all!
There's no dodging it. The economy sucks. The sagging effects of the economy even managed to hit my Monopoly board the other night. There was a housing crisis, one person collected all the money and refused to redistribute it, the $200 pass-go bailout was eliminated and the credit crunch forced me to nudge my fingers under the board and flip it with angst. I even crumpled a $500 bill and ate it to prove an immature point. I can't lose at board games. Sorry. With that in mind, here's your guide for a recession-friendly Valentine's Dinner
First, get a napkin and write the short note: Meet me at my house, but please leave your expectations at your place.
Once she arrives, tell her your intentions to take her to a romantic candle lit dinner, but the economy has made that impossible.
Then just as the disappointment sinks in to her face, tell her not to worry since you've prepared a modest meal from the items in your house. Remind her again that it will be special, and there will still be a candlelight dinner (since you could not afford utilities this month and are currently without electricity and hot water) ...
Assure her that you're disappointed too. And then ask her to take a seat like the gentleman you are. (You sold your chairs on Craig's list, so comfort her with a pillow to sit on).Once settled in, tell her about the appetizer dishes you've prepared. (You only had cheese whiz and some cottage cheese - which is likely curdled milk).
Build up the moment by describing reasons why she should be interested in putting bright processed cheese purchased from the gas station into her mouth. Provide evidence that it is considered a delicacy in certain countries, so by an extension of that thought, it makes it mildly exotic. If she scowls at the thought, direct her to the cottage cheese, and then bust out the emergency raisinets left over from Halloween to accompany the cottage cheese.
Be sure to thank her for bringing the wine. (Feel free to explain to her why you are drinking it from crumpled 7-Eleven paper cups fetched from the back seat of your car. You had to pawn your crystal wine glasses).
Let's head over to the main course now. Tell her you've cooked your famous shrimp scampi in a white-wine-and-garlic reduction sauce. (But it's 100 percent improvised).
Tell her she'll love the creativity in the meal, (in place of linguini, you've used ramen noodles, and you've substituted bacon bits for shrimp).
She will take one bite and certainly ask you what exactly is in it.
Tell her you didn't have any Chardonnay, so you deglazed everything in rubbing alcohol.
Begin eating, out of one large bowl (sine it's all you have) and it should add to the romance. Perhaps the both of you will even choose two ends of the same ramen noodle unknowingly and, slurping your way to the middle, your pursed lips will meet in a moment of preservative-laden bliss like Lady and her Tramp.
Remind her that the meal wasn't much, but it was prepared with love (and bacon grease because you didn't have any olive oil). This is what love is about. Love is about sticking with each other through thick and thin, through good times and bad, through wealth and agonizing, soul-crushing poverty. It's about supporting someone and not judging him, even if he has contracted scurvy and his only source of income is making regular deposits at the local sperm bank.
If she wants desert, try to avoid it (since all you have is a half eaten little debbie snack cookie from last week.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Rule #1: Money can't buy love, so if you're trying to impress her, do it the right way, like with some dope ass poetry that you've compiled from the lids of Sweet Leaf Tea bottles. Not by buying her a silver fleet yacht or a fuckin' diamond. In an effort to always push the envelope, I contributed a story to my friend's blog. It's called, Shakespeare Finds Sexual Inspiration in Khia’s “My Neck My Back”
Rule #2: Don't ever put much emphasis in Valentine's Day. It's like the economy, except with increased diminishing marginal returns.
Rule #3: Say something genuine (with humor) at the right moment and I promise your chances for having sex will become 99 percent. What to say you ask? Figure it out tough guy, not everyone can place perfectly times comments like I can, I know.
Rule #4: Buy your Valentine the finest Swiss chocolate, but leave it in your car on purpose and let it melt. Then present the gooey gift and remind her that there's only one way to eat it: off her neck. just kidding. I'm sure there are other ways to salvage the chocolate. (no, there aren't).
Rule #5: Don't even think about doing something stupid, like serenading your valentine to Boyz II Men "Water Runs Dry" and climbing her roof and falling off in the rain. Yup. I still laugh about it to this day.
What am I doing on Valentine's Day you ask? Shiiiiiit, I don't do Valentine's Day. I did manage to find an orange Crush soda in a bottle and plan to use that as a nice subtle gift though. I know, why the fuck am I so awesome?
I've made a little play list for y'all. One that strikes the perfect balance of tender, brainy and lusty tracks, a combination designed to make both the mind and the pulse race. The play list should be at the top of this blog.
"It's the only way I can relate to Valentine's Day. It's like ESPN sports anchors telling the story of Jesus Christ through catch phrases: A good carpenter doesn't blame his tools, or No one does the voodoo like Jesus do. -- JJ McLaughlin
