Valentine's Day Massacre

It's my pity party, and I'll cry if I want to

I wasn't feeling any pain of my own on Valentine's Day; it all seems so very manufactured, and you just know that even the people with boyfriends/husbands/girlfriends/wives/freakin' dates didn't have a very good time either. Fancy dinner: that's as creative as he can get to profess his love for you? I hope you threw a big, fat fit. Y'all should be going out to dinner once a week anyway. And in my professional capacity as Arbitress of Everything, I hereby opine that brunch is much more romantic. No, Valentine's Day is nowhere near as bad as being single on your birthday or Christmas, when families gather in pre-fight harmony and lovers fork over the big gifts: stereos, diamonds, cars, leather pants. And as Bourbon Jones' Chris Hanlin said at their always-joyous weekly Blue Cafe gig on Sunday: "If you don't have a Valentine, why just be sad about it one day a year?"

Send Commie Girl some love, sweet love at CommieGirl99@hotmail.com.

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