OBSEQUIENCE

I had no idea that the word 'obsequience' was in my vocabulary. Let alone that it was remotely/abstractly related to my post in the manner that my titles attempt to fit.
Anywho. So I haven't exactly posted in a while. I say that you might as well just call 10 days a week. And it's only been 9. So, less than a week, eh? That ain't too shabby. Ok, I'll shut up. But basically I have been lacking inspiration/inebriation. Eh.
So, VALENTINE'S DAY. I guess it's time for an obligatory post about how much it sucks, especially because this cynical, antisocial, unpleasant asshole is all alone at this momentously romantically focussed time of year. But honestly, I don't really care. I'm not sure if I don't care in the "post traumatic stress disorder" not caring, or the "Huh? Oh, yeah, whatever" not caring manner. Either way I don't care, and it's probably indicative of my underlying personality issues. I'm sure if being alone was really that big a deal for me, I would have found some girl with no self-esteem that I could browbeat into loving me by this time in my life. Failing that, a cheap hooker, to murder and keep in the shed. Or to not murder, you know, whatever I feel like doing on the day. Like if I feel like chicken burritos, or beef tacos. Or human (Long pork! Good ol' pirates, and their wacky euphemisms) taquitos.
Where was I? Hookers, ok, sweet.
I mean, Valentine's Day. Ok, some martyrs died and loved people or some shit. And? Now we exchange either gifts or cheap cardboard expressing emotions that we might feel but are to inept and shallow to be bothered expressing individually. Wow. I'm really sorry I miss out on all that. I'm not saying everyone who buys their girlfriend or boyfriend or mistress or whatever a present is a shallow, materialistic, insecure dickhead. I'm just saying, why? "Hey baby, here's a teddy bear. Look at it, didn't I do good? Can we have sex now?"
I remember at one high school I attended, at Valentine's Day they had this stupid thing where you could buy a plastic rose, and have it delivered to someone at home class or whatever. You could be anonymous, adding to all the romantic intrigue. I thought about doing it, but then the overriding assurance that my patheticness would some how find itself infused into the rose and that the recipient would immediately be repulsed set into my mind. It's one thing to get rejected face to face, I thought to myself, but it's a whole other story when you get rejected without anyone knowing it's you. It means everything you do is doomed to fail. I had a great outlook on like. "If I don't do anything outside my predefined capabilities then I can't ever fail at anything, and life wont be any more shit." Sadly, it didn't work out. Life gets shitter. It's like a birthday present from the universe "Ha! Dude, you thought stuff sucked before. Just wait till June... no more clues!".
Uh... basically I'm rambling now, but I have a blog, so fuck it. Fuck you if you want well thought out, drafted, and somewhat linear writing. This is the wrong place for you.
In conclusion: Valentine's Day is stupid but I have no particular resentment toward it. There are plenty of other days in the year to hate, why limit yourself to such a mainstream angst-source?
Peace.