Today is Valentine's Day otherwise known as Singles Awareness Day. The day that Hallmark designated for anyone that doesn't have a significant other to feel bad about themselves and thusly they eat lots of ice cream and chocolate. A day that anyone that is attached to someone else should expect romantic gestures or romance of some sort. Dinner out, if you're lucky and maybe some cute underwear that lead to sex. Hey, Hallmark, this isn't really how life works, FYI. Not everyone is Mr. or Ms. Romantic. Some people genuinely could give a flying frick about your made up, buy a card, some chocolate and maybe some diamonds holiday. These could be the bitter words from a woman that didn't have a significant other until she was in her early 30's or it could just be that I think it's all bullshit. It's a lot of pressure. Pressure for me to expect alleged romance and pressure from me to put on my significant other for romance. He doesn't need that pressure (I mean sometimes he needs a swift kick in the ass, but that's not what I mean here). Anyway, the short and long of it is, I've come to expect little from this alleged holiday.
In an effort to prepare for Valentine's Day, I did nothing. We don't usually make a big deal about it and the last couple of years, times have been a bit tight financially, so I asked Shark Bait to just not buy me anything. I expected this year to be the same. I woke up this morning and Shark Bait went and let the dogs outside and then came back upstairs to snuggle with me. He doesn't do that very often, kind of sweet. How romantic. We came downstairs and he had gotten me a card and a box of chocolates and some specialty chocolate. Also, he got me a necklace that he gave me last night that says, "I Love You More" on it, which is something we say to each other all the time. It's an argument. "I love you." "Well, I love you more." "No, I love YOU more." "No I love you MORE." And on it goes. That is all pretty sweet. I was touched and now I'm a dirtbag because I don't even have a card for him.
I decided to go in the kitchen and make us breakfast. Shark Bait even comes in to help. What? Again, being super sweet. Did he read a manual or something? Did he go to some sort of website called "Valentine's Day for Dummies?" And then he says, "I thought we'd go to lunch at that place that we had our first date at." Okay, that's it. What is happening? I kept waiting for a unicorn to walk past the window or something. WTF?
The reality is, we had some errands to run, so we decided to hold off on the romantic lunch until our "anniversary of our first date" which is coming up in a couple of months. So, we headed up to Bellingham to get Shark Bait something suitable to wear for the wedding we are going to in a couple of weeks. Last weekend we got my dress, now it was his turn for his duds. Since he only owns Wranglers, he needed something nicer. It is noteworthy to say, this is kind of where things took a turn for the worse.
We get up to the mall and I thought we would drop off my new necklace at the engraving store and have them put a message on the back of it. I said to the greasy-haired girl with big boobs, "Can you engrave the back of this necklace with the surface being a little different on the back?" "Oh, yes!" she says. Great. We leave it and head to Men's Wearhouse, also known as the place where you will need lube once Mr. Belvedere gets done with you. We were an easy mark, I suppose. Shark Bait is wearing his camo printed Romeo's, his Wranglers, his work t-shirt and a ball cap. He's no city slicker. Mr. Belvedere found us some pants that were on sale, $49.99. Excellent. And, it was buy one, get one. He doesn't need two pairs of pants, he barely needs one, but whatever. Of course, none of the pants were finished, so they would be custom hemmed for us. Included in the price, or so I thought. He needed a shirt, too. Oh, good, those are buy one, get one. The ties, buy one, get one. It's like we are practically saving money. Right? My redneck goes in there and tries on the pants, comes out, yep, yep, that will work. We make arrangements with Mr. Belvedere to come back in a half an hour to pick up hemmed pants, but first, let's ring up our purchase. Now, I don't mind splurging a little bit. After all, Shark Bait doesn't own any slacks. That Mother Trucker, Mr. Belvedere, might have mentioned that the pair Shark Bait decided on were NOT on sale. He might have mentioned there was a charge to press both pairs of pants and to hem them. I grabbed my chest like that old guy on Sandford & Son (if you've never seen that show, eff you, I,m sick of you young people). Mr. Belvedere just smuggly looked at me. I wanted Shark Bait to shoot him. He was packing heat. He always does at the mall to protect me from the crazy people that think it's okay to shoot the mall up, but today, I wanted him to be that crazy person. Asshole, Mr. Belvedere. Oh, I'm sorry, I thought Asshole was your first name....Asshole Belvedere. I really did need lube at that moment. Men's Wearhouse should have it by the register.
I no sooner leave the store of despair and start to breathe normally again when I get a call from Greasy BigBoobs letting me know she can't engrave on the back of my necklace because of the surface....the surface I specifically asked her about. She wants to know if it is okay to put it on the front. Um, no.
We retrieve my necklace and then decide to go get lunch at good 'ol Olive Garden. Mind you, this place has a standing history of causing my husband to go into a carb coma every time we go there, however, everyone thinks it's my favorite place to go, so I frequently get gift cards to there. Right now, a gift card lunch is in the budget. I do like the place, I just don't love it. Shark Bait was actually on good behavior today (still) and did not order a heavy lunch. At least he would be awake for a while. Hooray!
We decide, since we are up in Bellingham to stop at a couple places, just for fun, that we don't normally go to. One of them was Pier One. Haven't been in there forever. We walk in and start to browse and all the sudden, my stomach releases a battle cry from the intestinal area that leads me to believe we are in grave danger. ("What kind of danger? Grave danger, is there any other kind of danger?" - A Few Good Men reference there for those of you wondering what the hell...) Anyway, I quickly find Shark Bait, "Um, my stomach just advised me all hell is about to break loose, I need a bathroom...." Pier One doesn't have public restrooms, in case you were unaware. I tried to walk it off and pretend that I was the captain of my bowels. It became clear that at some point along the way, I had been demoted. I circled back to Shark Bait, "I hate to do this, but we need to go, NOW." We got outside and I said, "I'm pretty sure I'm going to shit my pants in the truck." He said, "Hold on, Barnes & Noble is right here, they have a bathroom." They shared the same parking lot, so we scooted over there and walked in the door. Both of us came in like we were casing the joint. Restrooms located, crisis averted.
I took the handicapped stall because, at this point, I wasn't sure if I would need the handrail for safety or not. As I'm in there, a woman and her kids come in. They want in my stall. As God is my witness, I don't care if that little girl craps her pants, I'm not giving up my stall. I won't go in to detail, but suffice to say, I took care of what needed caring for.
I walk out and start browsing books and Shark Bait walks up. There are two chairs there and we both grab a book and sit for a few moments, recovering from the crisis situation that had just been resolved. Just then, a very large man pushing a very large woman in a wheel chair came by. They were fighting. Apparently, she had to go to the bathroom, BAD. I can appreciate that. He is slamming her all over in that wheel chair. I mean, they are arguing loud and making a scene. They finally find the door to the women's room and the guy can't figure out how to get the chair in there. The woman is screaming at him to stop and he just keeps ramming that wheel chair into the door frame of the door, into the door, the wall and she is yelling, "Stop it! This isn't helping...this isn't working...stop!" He yells back, "I'm trying not to look inside there! I can't see what I'm doing!" Okay, this is not funny, especially after what I just experienced, but I had to work as hard as I could not to laugh. It was so ridiculous that it was comical. She finally got the door open and got in there. Several minutes later, she comes out and I hear her lecturing her angry chaperone, "Next time I tell you to stop doing something and it isn't working, you need to listen...are you hearing me? Are you even listening to me? I'm talking to you." He was dead inside and over it, he just pushed her through the aisles and I could hear her going at him all the way through the store. Again, I was dying inside a little. I looked at Shark Bait, who was oblivious to the whole thing and I said, "You promise me, if I'm ever in a wheel chair, you don't try and shove me through the bathroom door like you're shoving a sock in an over-crowded sock drawer, you hear me? Do not just slam me repeatedly into the door, okay?" He agreed.
I stood there and continued to look at the books categorized as "Humor." Who writes this stuff? I found a couple funny bits, but overall, what I saw happening in the wheel chair was far funnier than anything in those books. Shark Bait had wandered off, so I was sitting there by myself. A man comes up, "Is this chair taken?" I said, "No, go right ahead." He was excited, "Oh, that is awesome, let me go grab all my books!" He returns with his stuff and a coffee/espresso, whatever, and sits down making all the noises that a human makes when they are settling in to a good spot and their body is happy about it. Heavy sighs, content sighs, getting comfy. Then, he starts loud slurping his coffee and going, "mmmmm......mmmmmmm...." Are you kidding me? I think he was setting up for a coffee orgasm. I stayed just a moment longer. I didn't want to leave my spot by the restroom in case anything else exciting happened there or in case I needed it, but Mr. Slurpy was too much.
I left the area and found some books on becoming positive and finding my inner soul, blah, blah, blah..."Shark Bait, you ready? Can we go?" I felt confident my bowels could make it home, so we left the safety of the book store.
All in all, a pretty eventful Valentine's Day. But, it's not over, I mean, I don't know what else will happen, but it was a good day thus far. I don't care about the candy and the hoopla (likely the candy is what got my stomach pissed off), but it is something special that Hallmark doesn't have in a card when you can tell someone you love that you need a bathroom right now because otherwise you are going to shit your pants. THAT is what love is. Forget romance, candy and 50 shades of flannel sheets, this is the kind of stuff that makes you close to someone. I needed a bathroom and he found me one. To all you prissy girls in high heels looking over the edge at the Space Needle tonight waiting to be proposed to, you have NOTHING on me. I got the real deal. Be jealous, you should be.
In an effort to prepare for Valentine's Day, I did nothing. We don't usually make a big deal about it and the last couple of years, times have been a bit tight financially, so I asked Shark Bait to just not buy me anything. I expected this year to be the same. I woke up this morning and Shark Bait went and let the dogs outside and then came back upstairs to snuggle with me. He doesn't do that very often, kind of sweet. How romantic. We came downstairs and he had gotten me a card and a box of chocolates and some specialty chocolate. Also, he got me a necklace that he gave me last night that says, "I Love You More" on it, which is something we say to each other all the time. It's an argument. "I love you." "Well, I love you more." "No, I love YOU more." "No I love you MORE." And on it goes. That is all pretty sweet. I was touched and now I'm a dirtbag because I don't even have a card for him.
I decided to go in the kitchen and make us breakfast. Shark Bait even comes in to help. What? Again, being super sweet. Did he read a manual or something? Did he go to some sort of website called "Valentine's Day for Dummies?" And then he says, "I thought we'd go to lunch at that place that we had our first date at." Okay, that's it. What is happening? I kept waiting for a unicorn to walk past the window or something. WTF?
The reality is, we had some errands to run, so we decided to hold off on the romantic lunch until our "anniversary of our first date" which is coming up in a couple of months. So, we headed up to Bellingham to get Shark Bait something suitable to wear for the wedding we are going to in a couple of weeks. Last weekend we got my dress, now it was his turn for his duds. Since he only owns Wranglers, he needed something nicer. It is noteworthy to say, this is kind of where things took a turn for the worse.
We get up to the mall and I thought we would drop off my new necklace at the engraving store and have them put a message on the back of it. I said to the greasy-haired girl with big boobs, "Can you engrave the back of this necklace with the surface being a little different on the back?" "Oh, yes!" she says. Great. We leave it and head to Men's Wearhouse, also known as the place where you will need lube once Mr. Belvedere gets done with you. We were an easy mark, I suppose. Shark Bait is wearing his camo printed Romeo's, his Wranglers, his work t-shirt and a ball cap. He's no city slicker. Mr. Belvedere found us some pants that were on sale, $49.99. Excellent. And, it was buy one, get one. He doesn't need two pairs of pants, he barely needs one, but whatever. Of course, none of the pants were finished, so they would be custom hemmed for us. Included in the price, or so I thought. He needed a shirt, too. Oh, good, those are buy one, get one. The ties, buy one, get one. It's like we are practically saving money. Right? My redneck goes in there and tries on the pants, comes out, yep, yep, that will work. We make arrangements with Mr. Belvedere to come back in a half an hour to pick up hemmed pants, but first, let's ring up our purchase. Now, I don't mind splurging a little bit. After all, Shark Bait doesn't own any slacks. That Mother Trucker, Mr. Belvedere, might have mentioned that the pair Shark Bait decided on were NOT on sale. He might have mentioned there was a charge to press both pairs of pants and to hem them. I grabbed my chest like that old guy on Sandford & Son (if you've never seen that show, eff you, I,m sick of you young people). Mr. Belvedere just smuggly looked at me. I wanted Shark Bait to shoot him. He was packing heat. He always does at the mall to protect me from the crazy people that think it's okay to shoot the mall up, but today, I wanted him to be that crazy person. Asshole, Mr. Belvedere. Oh, I'm sorry, I thought Asshole was your first name....Asshole Belvedere. I really did need lube at that moment. Men's Wearhouse should have it by the register.
I no sooner leave the store of despair and start to breathe normally again when I get a call from Greasy BigBoobs letting me know she can't engrave on the back of my necklace because of the surface....the surface I specifically asked her about. She wants to know if it is okay to put it on the front. Um, no.
We retrieve my necklace and then decide to go get lunch at good 'ol Olive Garden. Mind you, this place has a standing history of causing my husband to go into a carb coma every time we go there, however, everyone thinks it's my favorite place to go, so I frequently get gift cards to there. Right now, a gift card lunch is in the budget. I do like the place, I just don't love it. Shark Bait was actually on good behavior today (still) and did not order a heavy lunch. At least he would be awake for a while. Hooray!
We decide, since we are up in Bellingham to stop at a couple places, just for fun, that we don't normally go to. One of them was Pier One. Haven't been in there forever. We walk in and start to browse and all the sudden, my stomach releases a battle cry from the intestinal area that leads me to believe we are in grave danger. ("What kind of danger? Grave danger, is there any other kind of danger?" - A Few Good Men reference there for those of you wondering what the hell...) Anyway, I quickly find Shark Bait, "Um, my stomach just advised me all hell is about to break loose, I need a bathroom...." Pier One doesn't have public restrooms, in case you were unaware. I tried to walk it off and pretend that I was the captain of my bowels. It became clear that at some point along the way, I had been demoted. I circled back to Shark Bait, "I hate to do this, but we need to go, NOW." We got outside and I said, "I'm pretty sure I'm going to shit my pants in the truck." He said, "Hold on, Barnes & Noble is right here, they have a bathroom." They shared the same parking lot, so we scooted over there and walked in the door. Both of us came in like we were casing the joint. Restrooms located, crisis averted.
I took the handicapped stall because, at this point, I wasn't sure if I would need the handrail for safety or not. As I'm in there, a woman and her kids come in. They want in my stall. As God is my witness, I don't care if that little girl craps her pants, I'm not giving up my stall. I won't go in to detail, but suffice to say, I took care of what needed caring for.
I walk out and start browsing books and Shark Bait walks up. There are two chairs there and we both grab a book and sit for a few moments, recovering from the crisis situation that had just been resolved. Just then, a very large man pushing a very large woman in a wheel chair came by. They were fighting. Apparently, she had to go to the bathroom, BAD. I can appreciate that. He is slamming her all over in that wheel chair. I mean, they are arguing loud and making a scene. They finally find the door to the women's room and the guy can't figure out how to get the chair in there. The woman is screaming at him to stop and he just keeps ramming that wheel chair into the door frame of the door, into the door, the wall and she is yelling, "Stop it! This isn't helping...this isn't working...stop!" He yells back, "I'm trying not to look inside there! I can't see what I'm doing!" Okay, this is not funny, especially after what I just experienced, but I had to work as hard as I could not to laugh. It was so ridiculous that it was comical. She finally got the door open and got in there. Several minutes later, she comes out and I hear her lecturing her angry chaperone, "Next time I tell you to stop doing something and it isn't working, you need to listen...are you hearing me? Are you even listening to me? I'm talking to you." He was dead inside and over it, he just pushed her through the aisles and I could hear her going at him all the way through the store. Again, I was dying inside a little. I looked at Shark Bait, who was oblivious to the whole thing and I said, "You promise me, if I'm ever in a wheel chair, you don't try and shove me through the bathroom door like you're shoving a sock in an over-crowded sock drawer, you hear me? Do not just slam me repeatedly into the door, okay?" He agreed.
I stood there and continued to look at the books categorized as "Humor." Who writes this stuff? I found a couple funny bits, but overall, what I saw happening in the wheel chair was far funnier than anything in those books. Shark Bait had wandered off, so I was sitting there by myself. A man comes up, "Is this chair taken?" I said, "No, go right ahead." He was excited, "Oh, that is awesome, let me go grab all my books!" He returns with his stuff and a coffee/espresso, whatever, and sits down making all the noises that a human makes when they are settling in to a good spot and their body is happy about it. Heavy sighs, content sighs, getting comfy. Then, he starts loud slurping his coffee and going, "mmmmm......mmmmmmm...." Are you kidding me? I think he was setting up for a coffee orgasm. I stayed just a moment longer. I didn't want to leave my spot by the restroom in case anything else exciting happened there or in case I needed it, but Mr. Slurpy was too much.
I left the area and found some books on becoming positive and finding my inner soul, blah, blah, blah..."Shark Bait, you ready? Can we go?" I felt confident my bowels could make it home, so we left the safety of the book store.
All in all, a pretty eventful Valentine's Day. But, it's not over, I mean, I don't know what else will happen, but it was a good day thus far. I don't care about the candy and the hoopla (likely the candy is what got my stomach pissed off), but it is something special that Hallmark doesn't have in a card when you can tell someone you love that you need a bathroom right now because otherwise you are going to shit your pants. THAT is what love is. Forget romance, candy and 50 shades of flannel sheets, this is the kind of stuff that makes you close to someone. I needed a bathroom and he found me one. To all you prissy girls in high heels looking over the edge at the Space Needle tonight waiting to be proposed to, you have NOTHING on me. I got the real deal. Be jealous, you should be.
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