1) It’s a worthless holiday invented by greedy corporations who want you to buy useless shit that no one needs or even really wants. How many fucking trees does Hallmark have to fucking murder for you to buy someone a stupid fucking card that says “I love you”? Hint: Just say the words out loud, for fucks sakes...you don’t need a garishly decorated piece of paper to do that. Better yet, bake a cake and write it on that...because cake is delicious, consumable and environmentally friendly. And who needs a fucking teddy bear holding a heart? I’m a 38 year old woman (note: I’m almost 42 now. And still single. What a shock. Not.), not a 6 year old...I’d rather you give me a live bear to roam free in my back yard. He'd make a great deterrent for the next fucker who tries to wreck my fence (note: some fucker had just wrecked my fence a couple days before writing this. I still want a bear, but I moved into an apartment and my balcony may be too small for a bear. Also the neighbours might complain if I let him roam the hallways of the building). And as far as chocolate goes? If you really fucking loved me, you be bringing me chocolate every fucking day, not just when the corporate deity of love tells you to. FYI: chocolate covered cherries are my favourite. Just so you know.
2) Since when do you need a fucking excuse to tell someone you love them? Quit being a fucking sycophantic yes-person who listens to the Man (because he’s a fucking cock-biting prick who you are allowing to control you through subliminal advertising...that’s a whole different rant though) and tell the person you love that you love them every fucking day, not just on some pre-approved corporate joke of a holiday. And you don’t have to spend money either...words don’t cost anything, nor does a nice back massage. You could piss a big heart in the snow for them, because that also doesn’t cost anything, but that’s really more of an observation than a recommendation.
3) Valentines Day is like a kick in the nuts/tits to single people. Thanks for the fucking reminder that no one loves me and I’m going to fucking die alone and bitter, with 236 cats in a house that smells like pee and despair. I know I’m single...I don’t need to be hit over the head with a giant foil heart wielded by a fucking pink life-sized Beanie Baby to fucking remember that. So fuck off with all the hearts and flowers shit and let me wallow in my fucking aloneness, eating an entire 10 lb box of chocolate, chased by a gallon of vodka and then promptly thrown up all over the kitchen in peace.