Valentine's Day gifts misinterpreted

Happy Valentine's Day!

Here are some gifts you can give your girlfriend and the ways she can misinterpret what you mean by giving them:
Flowers - They're pretty but expensive and temporary, just like our relationship. Expect both to be dead in a few days.
Chocolates - Eat up, fatty.
A kitten - You're incapable of managing a child, so here's the first of many cats.
A poem - I don't like you enough to spend money on you. Plus, maybe I'm gay.
A song - I'd rather play the guitar than spend money on you.
Lingerie - Dimming the lights isn't helping you look better, so let's try something else. Something lacy.
A book - Boring people like boring stuff, right?

Enjoy your day, everybody, and if you're single and feeling down, just remember that in times like this there's nothing a little self lovin' won't cure. You know what I mean.

(work.)

I mean you should masturbate. A lot.

Young love tastes like mustard

8th grade was a dumb year.

I had a crush on a girl in one of my classes (the girl with the biggest boobs, coincidentally) and I showed my love for her by writing 'I <3 (her initials)' in mustard whenever I made a sandwich.

This meant that not only had I found a dumber way to express myself than poetry, but I was putting a shitload of mustard on my sandwiches, too.

This meant that every sandwich I made tasted like mustard because I liked some girl in my class that won the pubertal lottery. That's stupid.

(bed.)

I wonder how that girl would feel if she knew that I'd been ruining my sandwiches because of her.

Me: "Hey, when I make sandwiches, I write your initials in them. In mustard."
Her: "Why?"
Me: "Because I like you."
Her: "Why didn't you just tell me instead?"
Me: "I really, really like mustard."
Her: "Really?"
Me: "No."

Drink 'til you do Katz

My roommate, Katz, is a really nice guy. Sure, he's not some big, strong man, but he's really nice, even if he's always flipping me off for no reason.

He's a good guy, but he's also single, and I think he deserves a girlfriend. Because of this, whenever a girl's in the apartment, I get excited. Hey! Maybe they'll suddenly fuck!

At parties, when Katz is there, and girls are there, we used to get the girls to play a game called 'Drink 'Til You Do Katz.' To date, no ladies have 'won,' and by 'won' I mean 'gotten blind drunk and made out with my roommate.'

So if you have a friend, ex-girlfriend, or sister that you think Katz should make out with, shoot me an IM, and I'll see if I can rub her face against his until they fall in love (or at least have some sex).

(work.)

Thinking "Maybe they'll suddenly fuck" makes sex seem like a "stop, drop, and roll" kind of thing. "It was just a reflex. The sex alarm went off."

Oh man, if they sell sex alarms, I'm buying one. How can you argue with an alarm? Is it worth jeopardizing your safety by not having sex? It's an alarm, people.

Seriously, though, if anybody knows a respectable lady in the Ann Arbor area, hit me up. We'll arrange a playdate.

Hot piece of bass

During last night's drunken shenanigans, I gave Amy a call and tried to say sweet things to her:
'Amy, there are a lot of fish in the sea, and I'm glad I've got you. All those other bitches are just minnows. You're a hot piece of bass.'

Of course, that's me remembering it while sober. When I actually said that (the pun was spontaneous, by the way), there's a chance I only mentioned the concepts and butchered the delivery. I could have said:
'You're the only fish I want to have sex with.'

And, knowing Amy, she would have laughed. Best fish to have sex with, indeed.

(Giving Mom a card.)

I bought my mom flowers from Farmer Jack (I am classy), then when I gave them to her she said, "Oh, they're so pretty" and pulled them toward herself. Then I realized that I'd forgotten to remove the price tag, so I pulled the flowers back so I could remove it.

"Oh yeah, hey, look at these flowers. They sure are nice. I'll get them ready, you find a vase."

You have to let your mom feel like she's worth the world, not just the $29.99 you spent on flowers at the grocery store on your way home.

Using the L-word with her mother, too

I went shopping for Mother's Day cards today, and since I try to be a good boyfriend, I got a card for my girlfriend's mom, too.

However, there was a problem: A vast majority of Mother's Day cards say, 'I love you.' Am I at a stage in my relationship with my girlfriend's mom where I feel comfortable saying 'I love you'? What if she doesn't love me back? Have we known each other long enough? We haven't even had sex yet!

So I'm thinking I'll cross out 'love' with 'like' so things don't get weird. Only downgrading verbs is weird enough, so, fuck. I guess I'll just settle for a less serious card that features a bad pun as its punchline.

(pants.)

Love note homework

Hey guys, you ever receive a love note from your girlfriend? You're flattered at first, then something happens.

You think, 'Ah, fuck. I just got a love note.'

Love notes are fucking hard to write. You know you have to return the favor, but it's going to be really hard.

Girls are much better at using words to write about their feelings. Some guys don't even have feelings, and now we have to write about them? Shit.

And love notes from your girlfriend are usually incredibly sweet, and before you even finish reading them you're brainstorming ideas about how you'll write your return love note. Only she's already said every sweet thing possible.

I've debating writing back with,
'Dear Amy,
Right back atcha!.
-Henry'

(Library.)

That love letter is currently sitting on my desk. Every time I look at it, I feel like it's taunting me. "Come on, asshole. Top this, I dare you." And I end up thinking, "You know what? Fuck you, love letter."

Of all the things someone could say to a love letter, I end up with "Fuck you." All because I suck at expressing myself. Can I write about farting, Batman, homeless people, the human taint, and igniting my genitals with hot sauce? Sure. But can I write a letter to a pretty girl? Not at all.

Meet Your Future Wife in a Burning Building

I think what depresses me about bars is that hopefully nothing that happens there will be long-lasting. I'd be sad if I asked my parents where they met and their story went something like:
'Oh yeah, son, I saw your mother at the bar and I thought, 'Hey, I'd bang that,' so I bought her whatever beer was on special. Then when she was drunk enough to make eye contact with me, I took her home and we had some sex. Then she missed her period, we got married, and you were born.'

There isn't much magic about yelling to someone in a loud, smoky room. I want to rescue my future wife from a burning building.

Amy just read this and said, 'I don't want to be in a burning building.' Well, I guess we know who's not marrying me, then. She now says:
'I guess we know who's not getting any tonight, too.'

Damn.

(class.)

I didn't make this connection when I first typed this, but both bars and burning hospitals are filled with smoky rooms. However, with burning hospitals, there's a sense of urgency, but with bars, you're just yelling at people sitting a few feet away from you because the bad music they're playing is too goddamn loud.

Basically what I'm saying is that if you're trying to meet a woman at a bar, spice up the night by setting the shitty live band on fire and rescuing the pretty lady at the bar. If shortly after giving her CPR you find out she has a boyfriend, throw her back in. "I saved you to get some poontang, lady, now go have your precious boyfriend resuscitate you after you pass out from smoke inhalation."

Also, for the record, I would never set a bar on fire, rescue a hot lady stranger, ask her if she has a boyfriend, then throw her back into the flames when she says yes. This is because I have a girlfriend, thank you very much, and she'd probably get really mad if I saved another woman. So ladies, if you're on fire and I don't rescue you, it's nothing personal.