Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Valentines For The Objects Of Our Obsessions

Earlier this year, when I was at a Hallmark store, I browsed the Valentine's Day card selection and amongst the usual tripe, I found a few somewhat bizarre sentiments being expressed. I considered actually buying some of the cards I'm going to talk about, but when I went back to the Hallmark store on Valentine's Eve to find them, I was already too tired and cranky, and of course humanity was trying its utter damnedest to incite my contempt.

Okay, what the fuck is up with everyone getting intimate with the card display shelves? I mean, seriously, do you need to stand approximately three inches from the shelf to pick out the cards? More importantly, do you have to stand next to someone who is several feet back, taking in the entire selection of cards, acknowledge that the person is actively browsing, and still interject your bovine ass into the way, not to simply grab an appealing card, but to spend the next half hour dry humping the shelving unit? Some of us don't need to stick our dicks in the card bins to find the perfect card, asshole. Show some respect.

Anyway, while I guess I understand what the romantic sentiment trying to be expressed with these cards, some of them are way too freakishly needy for me to not find absurd.

"You are my soul mate."
Call me cynical, but that's coming on a little too strong for a simple greeting card. Yes, a part of me still does believe in the concept of soul mates, but I think if most people got that card, they would read it as an Emergency Broadcast System warning signal of: "RUUUUUUUUN!!!"

"We will be together forever."
This is one step away from screaming "Why did you leave me?!?" with mascara running down your face, Morrissey playing in the background, and a razor blade poised precariously against your wrist.

"I thank God that I found you."
If you pray for it long enough, any chance occurrence will seem like Divine Intervention.

"We were meant to be together."
"We were meant to be together!! Why, why, can't you just accept that?!"

"Tribute To Singles"
This is a series of cards that all say things to the effect of: "I'm single and I'm happy. That's right; I don't need anyone else. I'm fine being dateless on Valentine's Day. Valentine's Day is overrated anyway. You know what? FUCK Valentine's Day. I don't need Valentine's Day. You losers with your girlfriends can all just fuck off and die. I have myself, and I love myself, and myself and I are going to curl up on the sofa with a half-gallon of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey Ice Cream and watch sappy romantic comedies starring Hugh Grant, and we're going to be happy together. So FUCK YOU." Then you open the card and it says, "Thinking of our independent single friends on Valentine's Day." Yeah, can anybody tell me precisely what this would be shoved very far up if I ever received it on Valentine's Day?

"From The Dog / Cat"
This is all sorts of sad.

Then I happened over to what I like to call the "loser section" of the store. Any Hallmark store has these. It's not part of the Valentine's Day display, but apparently a permanent fixture of the store. This is where you find really fucked-up, dysfunctional love cards like these:

"Let's fix this together."
Yikes. If you're at the point where you need a card to express this, and you're not talking about rebuilding a car, maybe you're beyond redemption.

"We promised each other forever and we meant it."
Is it just me, or does this sound like a threat?

"Sometimes I just don't know how to express how I feel about you."
"So when I go out drinking all night with my friends and come home yelling and I rough you up a little? That's how I tell you I love you."

A humorous aside, later I went to the grocery store that was in the same shopping complex. As I was leaving, I walked by a guy putting bags of rock salt into his shopping cart. Now, keep in mind that the only two people around were him and me. He looks up, sees me walking by, and announces: "Yep. Got-R-Done."

I was like, "Okaaay… I'll… alert the proper… authorities?" As I was walking out the door, I playfully continued underbreath: "What the hell was that? That was creepy. I feel violated."


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