Ah, VD. No, not venereal disease, but something very closely related: Valentine's Day. For those of us in the non-communist and non-Jehovah's Witness world, VD came and went several days ago, and to those of you who spent the day with your better half, I say, "Fudge You."
Fudge you, Cupid. Fudge you, Hallmark. And most importantly, fudge you, ugly, uninteresting dude who lived down the hall from me sophomore year and for some God-awful reason managed to have an impossibly hot girlfriend. Seriously, the guy was a mess.
The only '80s television analogy I can make is Cousin Larry Appleton from "Perfect Strangers." Remember how his girlfriend, Jennifer, was so much hotter than him? And before you say something like, "It's not all about looks, you know. What's on the inside counts too, you shallow so-and-so," I must remind you that Cousin Larry was a HUGE ass. He consistently took advantage of the well-intentioned yet simple-minded Balkai Bartokomous. Consistently. He would have been the least moral character on the show were it not for Gorpley, their conniving boss at the newspaper.
As a tangent to my tangent, do you remember that episode where they were locked in the basement and it started to flood when the water main broke? As a six-year-old I was pretty sold on the concept, but really, how long would it take to fill a two-story basement? Half a day at least.
And the door at the top of the stairwell didn't seem like it was made of the strongest materials. Do not try to tell me that a goat herder for Mypos, who in the opening credits traveled all the way to Chicago atop a bale of hay on a horse-drawn cart, couldn't lower his shoulder and pop it off the hinges.
But enough about "Perfect Strangers" (I hope the six of you who read that and knew what I was talking about appreciated it). Back to VD! The ugly dude was, and probably still is, a complete Larry Appleton: he had no redeeming qualities, yet he enjoyed a healthy relationship with an inexplicably attractive girl. So fudge him.
And no, I am not bitter. I am simply using him to make aware my feelings on VD: it's not for me. You heard me, no VD for me, no sir. And for the rest of you singles out there, this is your anthem, so get your gosh-darn hands up.
No VD for me because St. Valentine was a Catholic martyr who, in the third century A.D., refused to deny Christ and was subsequently sentenced to death by the Roman Emperor. Romantic, isn't it? Make sure you think of that next time you purchase a $15 heart-shaped box of chocolates, which will inevitably be next year.
No VD for me because I am convinced that the greeting card and florist industries in this country are involved in an elaborate conspiracy to take my money. For example, a dozen roses costs like 80 bajillion dollars nowadays.
Considering that half of all men in America probably succumb to the pressure of buying roses every Feb. 14, the total revenue generated for the American florist industry on that one day is roughly six billion bajillion dollars. Six billion bajillion! Now, I may not be good with numbers, but that's such a staggering amount I'm not even sure it exists!
Lastly, no VD for me because I have a horrible VD track record. Last year I spent most of the night trying to get back to my "valentine" by navigating the far reaches of London's East End on foot after missing the bus. Why was I in the far reaches of London's East End, you ask? Because for some reason I thought it prudent to run off to some house party.
I slept alone that night.
And the year before that, the Casanova in me decided to take my date out to dinner and a movie. Only the movie the idiot in me chose was "Daredevil." Nothing screams romance like a 90 minute crapfest based on a comic book character whose superpowers were essentially limited to blindness and the power to work as a pro-bono lawyer. He was armed only with a billy club, and for those of you not familiar with comic book weaponry, a billy club is just a stick. A stick.
Can you imagine what that's like in front of other superheroes? Spiderman's got those cool web-shooters, Captain America has a shield, Iron Man has a freaking awesome suit, and what do you have? A stick? I mean, what do you say?
It's gotta be embarrassing, especially in the machine shop. Iron Man's working on his thrusters, Spidey's researching a stronger polymer to better the integrity of his webbing, Batman's installing a DVD player in his utility belt, and what is Daredevil doing? Breaking a branch off a tree and whittling it down? Dorky comic book knowledge aside, I spent the entire 45-minute trip back from the theater defending an indefensible movie. I slept alone that night.
So this year I gave up. No VD for me. Strike that, no VD for us, the ones who took the opportunity on Monday to just go about our business as usual. I went to class, did some laundry, made myself a sandwich, and almost punched a girl I saw carrying flowers. Just a regular Monday.
I'm proud to say that this year, my 21st on this planet, I was VD-free. The question is, were you?
