My Crushing Valentine

Posted: March 9, 2009 in holidays, I'm an asshole, kids, parenting, wife


You know….

That Grave Digger is a hopeless romantic.

WITH WHEEL STANDING ACTIONNN! ACTIONNN! ACtionn..ction…tion...

Let me explain.

Another Valentine’s Day has come and gone at the Mental Poo household.

What did the wife and I do?

Flowers?

Chocolates?

Cards?

A candlelit romantic dinner for two?

People. Seriously.

Do you even fucking know me?

The last time I did that shit for Valentine’s Day, I actually still held out hope that it would get my Mr. Wiggly some action.

Where’s that ship?

It sailed, my friends.

It sailed.


I took my son to see Monster Jam.”

That’s right.

I spent the entire Valentine’s Day with my son watching giant trucks race around a dirt track smashing into random shit.

My wife…

She cries sometimes.


Here are some things I learned at “Monster Jam”

1) HOLY FUCKING SHIT IT’S FUCKING LOUD IN HERE HOLY SHIT WHAT?! WHAT?!?

Yeah. You can’t hear anything.

As such, I believe ‘Monster Jam’ would be a great date night for those guys who have a date with a broad who’s really really smoking hot…

…but every time she talks you want to punch her in the fucking throat.


I used to work with a really hot Korean chick named Gina who fit this very mold.

She’d walk into a room, and you’d be like:

BOOOINNNNGG!

(my penis is made of broken clock parts)


But then she’d open her fucking mouth and you wanted to kill her.

We were doing a group interview with a new candidate one time and she asked the guy a question:

Gina: “If you had to do a DNS reverse lookup, what would you be looking for if it was not in reverse?”

* blink

* blink blink

This poor guy has no fucking clue what she’s asking.

Neither do I and I work with this shit.


Me: “Gina, I think you might need to rephrase that. It’s confusing.”

Then she looks at me…IN THE INTERVIEW…and says:

Gina: “Well. You don’t know DNS so shut up.”

That bitch just threw me under the fucking bus right in front of this guy.

Fucking brilliant.

So, I glared over at her.

My reply:

Me: “You. Bitch.”

Yes. An interview.

I called her a bitch during a group interview.

That was my very first visit to meet with Human Resources.

But it went well because the HR guy worked out with me in the gym and if he ever did anything to me I’d simply drop the fucking weight on his skull and kill him fucking instantly and he damn well knew it.

Friends.

They’re there when you need them.


What was I talking about?

Oh yeah.

Hot broads who are annoying douchebags.

At some point in his life, every guy has suffered through this shit.

Sure, I want to bang her…but MOTHER OF CHRIST JUST SHUT YOUR FUCKING YAPPER.

The conclusion?

Monster Jam + hot annoying chick = snail city.

(Trademark pending)


2) Camouflage is the new black

I have no idea what that means.

I was fully expecting the entire place to be filled with redneck hillbilly inbred cousins all wearing camouflage vests and sleeveless flannel shirts.

Surprisingly, I only saw, like 3 hillbilly inbred cousins in camouflage.

The rest were in denim cut-off shorts.

Daisy Duke is directly responsible for the soiling of no less than three pairs of my acid washed jeans.


Damn.

What?

Oh. Yeah.

So I saw maybe 3 people in camouflage, which was disappointing.

There could have been more, though.

With camouflage, it’s tough to tell.

And what’s with all the seats filled with bushes?


So, that was our Valentine’s Day.

Loud trucks.

Kids with mullets.

Dirt.

Smashed cars.

Toothless broads in camouflage.

(Man, I miss college)

Who says I’m not a hopeless romantic?

Put your hands down, assholes.

Especially you, honey.

Or next year, you’re coming with me.

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