Chocolate Blows

Valentine's Day.

Humbug.

It's unnecessary, since I celebrate love 365 days a year, and 366 every leap year.

Valentine's Day is an excuse for my family to rent sappy movies about "love". This time it was Elizabethtown, and it starred Orlando Bloom and Kirsten Dunst. I never thought I'd find the sight of a woman clad in panties and a tight tee to be a turn off, but Kirsten Dunst proved me wrong. I pity the woman, Dunst is a horrible last name. But so is Bloom.

Elizabethtown started off real nice. Orlando Bloom was going to kill himself, my popcorn bowl was almost empty, and no one was sobbing. But then Orlando Bloom's character gets a phone call from his sister, and the movie goes from crappy to sappy.

I have a great idea. The movie should be remade so that Orlando Bloom boards the plane and meets Kirsten Dunst, but then a terrorist hijacks the plane and crashes it into Elizabethtown. I'll call it "The Tragic Five Minute Film of Two Actors with Pathetic Last Names who Can't Act if it Were To Save Their Lives".

It's not that I hate love stories. It's just that there are way-too-many of them. There are billions of people in the world today, most of whom have their personal love story. And that's not counting the billions of people who have lived. Plus all the sappy love movies Hollywood torments me with.

Speaking of love stories, yesterday I watched The Notebook. My family told me it was a great movie, so giving them the benefit of the doubt, I sat down. That night, I refused to sleep in my warm bed, wear my comfy pajamas, and cuddle my teddy bear. Instead, I chose to sleep on the living room couch in my t-shirt and boxers, just to be sure I wasn't losing any of my manly qualities after being exposed to sweet mush like that. As a precautionary measure, I also scratched my butt at random intervals and trained myself to drool on my soft pillow while I slept. Wait, did I say pillow? I meant armrest.

I don't like chocolate. As a child, I used to hurl if I ever ate more than a tiny bit. I don't eat my birthday cakes if the main flavor is chocolate. I only eat chocolate when I'm depressed. Which is never.

Romantics worldwide hope I choke and die at night because I refused to bow down and worship their sacred day and romantic classics.