The Past Two Days Have Been Terrible

I'm not just talking about the tragedy in Florida over Valentine's Day or the sadly-not-surprising revelation that the FBI had not one but two hot tops about the shooter, one five months ago and one a month ago. Those things are awful, yes, but the past two days have been terrible for me, personally.

Wednesday was bad because it was Valentine's Day, or as I like to call it, Singles Awareness Day. I have a long track record of not liking the Hallmark Holiday and being reminded that I've just spent another year romantically fallow.

But Thursday was even worse. I had an appointment with the plastic surgeon in order to see what could be done about the scarring. I was worried because he had said that the swelling would have disappeared in January, yet the wound had stopped shrinking by Christmas but still looked pretty big. Still, I went in with hope. Perhaps he could stick a needle into the puffy bits and drain them?

Instead, he was very dismissive about my feelings and my appearance, and basically told me that there's nothing he can do. It's still swollen because it's all  scar tissue, you see, and surgery would just cut into it more and create another scar, and it's so thick that a laser wouldn't do anything for it and there are no drugs which can shrink it.

The only thing that he says can be done is for me to massage it as hard as I can several times a day and just hope that it breaks down the scar tissue.

In fact, here's a quote that summarize the entire appointment:

Me: So what you're saying is that I'm stuck looking like this...

Him: Uh-huh.

Me: ... and that I'm screwed.

Him: No, not screwed! You still have full function!

In other words: Everything works, so who cares how it looks? Again, the feeling which I had from him -- and my mom agrees, because she was with me -- was that he really didn't much care, like I wasn't worth his time. Perhaps I was cutting into his lucrative face lift and boob job schedule?


And so this entire experience of being told that my face looking like a chew toy was just the way it was going to be, too bad so sad get out of my office, left me feeling like ugly, worthless crap. I pulled out my bottle of Emergency Rum and started drinking until the evil thoughts went away, and then I went to bed at like 4 am.

I got up around noon to drink some water and use the bathroom. Then I went back to bed (not because I was hung over, but because I just didn't want to deal with anyone or anything) and didn't get up until 5 pm, because I needed to get dressed and walk the remaining dog.

I still feel like ugly, rejected, spoiled meat. I don't know if I'm ever going to feel better again.


The only thing I can do at this point is to go find another plastic surgeon and fill out more paperwork and pay another first-time patient fee, just so I can get a second opinion and maybe find a doctor who gives a shit about my face, because I cannot believe there is nothing which can be done.

I think I'm going to finish off the rest of the rum and then sleep some more. At least I don't feel hideous in my dreams.

Singles Awareness Day

c.f. Singles Awareness Day.

Credit to Emillu for the artwork.

Happy VD

These are still some of my proudest creations.

The first rule of Valentine's Day is, you do not celebrate Valentine's Day.

I call them "Fightentines". It would do my blackened heart good to see them shared.

Black Thursday

Ah, Venereal Day, the holiday I hate.

Still, it's good to know that this year, I don't need to gripe about it; someone else has done it for me.

Valentine's Day: Holiday From Hell, via CNN.com.

Go, and do thou likewise.

Bring me the head of the fat kid with the arrows

Strap in, children. This is gonna be a rough one and I'm wearing my Slappy Squirrel hat.

To say that I hate Valentine's Day is to commit an error of proportion. In actuality, every mote of my being loathes it with the white-hot intensity of a galaxy of supernovae. If I had the choice between saving a busload of children or admitting I liked today....

... well, okay, I'd save the children. Damn it. But for the rest of my life I'd gripe about how I'd made the wrong choice.

I hate this day because it's completely and utterly artificial. People in love don't need a day to celebrate because love is a constant celebration. Or, to put it another way, "If there's a Mothers' Day and a Fathers' Day, why isn't there a Children's' Day?" The answer to this, as every parent and reader of Peanuts knows, is "Because every day is Children's' Day.

So, to those who are well and truly in love, Every day is Valentine's Day. You don't need this day to show love. No, this day was created as a marketing gimmick by the greeting card, candy, and jewelry industry:

Exhibit 1: A schmaltzy card that says "I love you" with intertwined rosebushes whilst bunnies and duckies frolic playfully under a smiling Mr. Sun.

This is false sentiment. This is emotional shorthand. Wouldn't it be more compelling, more authentic, more loving just to say what you feel? Write a love note. Call and express your feelings of devotion. Hell, if you're not good with words, a loving hug will speak multitudes.

People, if you have to resort to Hallmark, you are admitting that you cannot do the job. Would you let Hallmark have sex with the person you loved? HELL NO! Why, then, are you letting them do the emotional equivalent?

Exhibit 2: A heart-shaped box of chocolates.

Don't get me wrong here: I love chocolate. In fact, I could eat my weight in chocolate. This is why it's a mistake to get a girl a box of them. We will eat them all, and then feel fat. Feeling fat is not sexy. Not feeling sexy means you don't get any tonight. No, chocolates should be like orgasms: a few at a time, but highly potent. And if you can somehow mix your chocolates and orgasms together, I envy you. picsplzkthanx.

For the record, I'm sitting at home eating a box of chocolates that my mother bought me. Isn't that cool? I'm trying to decide if it would be more pathetic if I had bought the chocolate myself. On the one hand, if I did it myself, I could claim empowerment: "I bought it because I wanted chocolate today! I don't need anyone to get it for me! I can do it myself!" On the other hand, not getting anything from your mother on Valentine's Day is another way of saying "Not even the woman who brought you into this world loves you."

So you see my predicament.

Exhibit 3: The ubiquitous diamond.

Diamonds are wonderful, pretty things. I like to look at them, I like what they stand for, I like that they are essential components in a Bond villain's death ray. What I hate is how they have become a modern bride price in commercials.

Don't act coy, you know what I'm talking about. Since October we've been bombarded with advertisements that state, in effect, "The only way to buy her love is to get her a diamond. You're not a man unless you buy her a diamond. Buy her a diamond and she'll love you forever."

For only the cost of a diamond, you, too, can own a human being.

I hate, HATE, HATE the concept that something as rare, as precious, as beautiful as love can somehow be measured, or worse, bought, by a few ounces of crystallized coal. And I know that's not how it really is. But that's what the commercials would have us believe, and so every time I see one of those blogfodder ads from Jared, I have to be physically restrained from throwing something heavy at my television.


That's why I hate today. I freely admit that my tune would be different if I was in a loving relationship right now. But until then, all I want to do scream:

Bring me Cupid's head on a platter!

(with apologies to Grant and Hynes, from whose webcomic Two Lumps I stole today's title)

post edited it needed a better ending