Having a heart that's cold and black is not particularly conducive to a successful Valentine's Day celebration. In fact, if given the choice each 14 February I would cover my apartment windows in tin foil, paint the walls black, curl up around a bottle of bourbon, and cry softly to myself while listening to The Cure's seminal* album Disintegration on repeat. But nooooooooooo. The Collective says I have to pick a Valentine this year so pick a Valentine I must, and the Valentine I pick is this pack of Tums sitting on the table here next to me, because I've had a tummy ache for as long as I can remember and without my beloved Valentine I think I'd die FROM THE PAIN OF MY BODY DECIDING IT WOULD BE A FREAKING BRILLIANT IDEA TO DIGEST ITSELF.
* Did you know that in addition to meaning "highly original and influencing the development of future events," the word seminal also means "full of semen**"?
**Did you know that I am rereading Heart of Darkness, and every time I come across the word seamen I laugh and laugh and laugh?***
***I'm pretty sure that's not what Conrad had intended.****
****Also, I miss that picture of Michael Showalter. Let's bring that one back for the children.