Happy F—ing Valentine’s Day

I hate this day. Always have. So all you happy couples out there can kiss my great big butt.

Two additions beyond the general sourness for this year:

One, Chris is a traitor for having a girlfriend this year. Rot in hell, Bowlesie.

And two, someone out there, and you know who you are, made me feel like I could fly today . . . if only I hadn’t just had my wings cut off with a rusty cheese grater or something similarly painful. Both thank you from the bottom of my heart, and sonofabitch at the same time (though of course not in any way your fault. We both know that it is ALL mine completely).


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