Valentine's Day Lament

For all forsaken single schmoes, such as myself, the dreaded day of all dreaded days, looms just around the corner - Valentine's Day. The single most hated day for all us embittered nay-sayers of heartfelt romance.

Being so spiteful of this holiday as I am, I almost stapled the girl from the 'Social Committee' to the bulletin board at work today when she innocently propositioned me at my desk to purchase a cutesy "Candy Gram" for someone special in the office.

"Honey, unless you're taking orders for steak and a blowjob this coming Tuesday, I suggest moving on to another cubicle immediately".

Homey, clearly, don't play dat.

How did this stupid schmaltzy holiday ever evolve when it did anyways? For me personally, the month of February itself is about as big a turn on as fat free bacon. It's cold; it's icy; it's bone-chillingly windy, and you probably wouldn't even be able to achieve an erection in the first place without the use of electrical muscle stimulators. I don't know about anybody else, but my penis retracts deep into my chest pretty much from early January until late March like a hybernating groundhog. It doesn't thaw out enough to be of any functionable use until at least June.

It's hardly the weather for romancing if you ask me.

Besides, whats worth celebrating exactly? The fact that I once touched a boob back in high school and that it's been all downhill from there? Talk about your premature ejaculations! I could easily stand to avoid all the commercialized Valentine's Day traditions erupting around me by just staying home, drinking maple syrup from the bottle and wacking off to LavaLife advertisements by candlelight.

Brokeback Moaning

Is there anybody else out there that totally doesn't give a shit about ever seeing the critically aclaimed movie 'Brokeback Mountain'?

I'm already sick and tired of what seems like everyone telling me about what an incredibly amazing and sad story it is. Well, duh! No shit, Sherlock. The thing is, in my current state of permanent single loser status, I'm not too eager to just run out and proceed to make myself all sad and depressed by viewing a movie about the forbidden man love between two lonely ranch hands. Excuse me, but that just doesn't sound like an ideal Saturday night for me - what can I say? I'm likely to end up experiencing some sort of bizarre Stockholm Syndrome and wind up purchasing a pair of leather chaps and going on vacation to some 'Men Only' Dude Ranch.

Plus, it really annoys me how everyone feels that they have to articulate to me about how incredibly sad the ending of the movie is. I'm a little insulted here! It's a movie about two gay cowboys - how fucking happy could it really be? Think about it: how many cheerful cowboy songs have you heard in the last 30 - 40 years? Cowboys, even the straight, studly ones, are still a pretty fucking depessing bunch. The fact that these two particular cowboys in 'Brokeback Mountain' are homosexual is just the icing sugar on the puff pastry.

I simply can't picture a happy movie about gay cowboys and their secret desires for hot man ass out on the lonesome prairie. I just don't really need to see this movie to already know how it's all going to turn out in the end (no pun intended).

Likewise, I probably won't be bothered to go see the sequel, 'Fag Hill', either.

"Brangeletus"

It would seem lately like there is either a serious shortage of condoms or somebody has slipped something into the Hollywood water supply causing a sudden increase in the number of recently announced celebrity pregnancies - because the headlines of just about every celebrity gossip magazine on the rack these days is featuring some juicy tidbit about the upcoming birth or pregnancy status report of some famous celebrity schlup or other. At the very least there is a photo of some pot-bellied primadonna sporting a Starbucks caffeinated beverage.

Tis the season to be knocked up and wired I guess.

First, the celebrity baby buzzboard was set afire with the news that Katie Holmes had been successfully impregnated by her leading man fiance Tom Cruise. Tabloids began to lap up the news when 'ol Tommy went so far as to even buy a sonogram machine in order to monitor the development of his unborn child growing in Holmes' womb. I wonder how God, "the Scientist", feels about Cruise keeping regular tabs on his divine handywork with his unborn fetus? Isn't that a little too - oh, I don't know - Dr. Frankenstein? If Tom's not careful, God is likely to give his precious newborn gills; or heavens forbid, a mangina.

Not to be outdone, there's also the preganancy announcements for Matt Damon and his wife Luciana Bozan, singer Gwen Stephani and rocker Gavin Rossdale, as well as fashion model Rachel Weisz and her fiancé-slash-director Darren Aronofskgwen.

But to top it all off, there's “Brangeletus” - the child expected by actors and all round beautiful people, Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. My god is this child going to be fucking gorgeous or what?! Think about it, with such striking specimens for parents as Brad and Angelina, this child is simply bound to be too fucking beautiful to even gaze upon when it falls from Angelina's loins like a ripe tropical fruit. Brad Pitt's spuzz alone is rumored to cure cancer, eliminate aging wrinkles, as well as granting eternal youth for fuck sakes! He's like the Holy Grail of sperm in Hollywood.

When the time of birth arrives, this Golden Child will spit forth from Angelina's vagina in a wash of intense white light to the herald of trumpeting angels and followed by a twleve piece marching band to mark it's arrival into this world. It'll be the fucking birth of the century! Cattle will low; shepherds, wisemen, and Hollywood movie producers will trek from miles around after following a bright start in the West sky, to offer their greeting and tributes of gold frankincense and modeling contracts.

This child will be the perfect prototype if ever there is the need for the salvation of the human race following some global disaster of magnus proportions. We could create clones of this beautiful newborn and repopulate mankind as a race of perfect beings.