Monday, February 14, 2011

Poor guy will probably end up burning himself at the stake

It's Valentine's Day, a holiday with suspicious beginnings (who's your baby daddy, V-day? NOBODY KNOWS) and guilt trips induced in the name of sentimentality and blow jobs.

I love Valentine's Day, but mostly because it gives me an excuse to dress all in pink and red without having to give a shit either A) about heart health or B) breast cancer, the two leading causes of stress and alcoholism in women named Lolita Razzle Dazzle.

Typically, Gray and I celebrate this lovers' holiday by eating Chinese food from the floor (he and I on the floor, not the food, although Gray's chopstick skills DO need some improvement), watching movies all night long, and having illicit living room relations.

Tonight, though...tonight is a Monday night, which means we both work tomorrow, and our furnace is no longer functioning, which means that sleeping in our 96-year-old-house feels a lot like Bella and Edward in the tent before Jacob showed up, and simultaneously our checking account is overdrawn so that calling the HVAC guy is completely out of the question until next payday, which means Gray and I will likely spend this Valentine's Day eating crumbs from the floor (literally)((I think I saw a jelly bean under the couch))(((I CALL DIBS))) and going to bed at a reasonable 9:30 p.m. after flossing our teeth and packing our lunches for tomorrow.

I know, I know - we're really not taking advantage of the holiday. It is our first MARRIED Valentine's Day, so it's really my premier opportunity to implement Operation: Wife Guilt, but the truth is I'll kill him with my bare hands if he charges another penny to our account, plus I totally don't feel like shaving today.

No, not even there.

So tonight will be one of those regular nights, except we'll probably make a few more inappropriate boob jokes than usual and, if my period doesn't start before bed time, maybe Gray will get lucky. MAYBE.

On the other hand, I'm beginning pre-conception preparations for Operation: Knock Me Up (coming to theaters in May), so it's possible I'll decide I'm too tired for marital relations and I'll tell Gray he has to save his sperm until this spring.

Or maybe we'll just masturbate together.

Kind of depends on how warm the house is.