Ok, first of all: not a big fan. Don’t really get it. I call it Ballantine’s Day, but that doesn’t really have any bearing on what my actual point is going to be.
Anyway, what I was going to say was this: why do people need ONE day in a year to celebrate their temporary/never-ending/cheesy/chaste/crazy/punch-drunk love in an over-the-top exhibitionist display? Why one day?
Getting to my point any second now.
I have a suggestion, in the shape of a question mark. How about celebrating your love for that special human being EVERY day, every minute, every second of a year, and then on that particular day when all of the others run around like headless chickens with little hearts on top, you just kick back, relax, have a beer and watch some old movies with your better half? Seriously, how much cooler is that? Because we got the love coursing through our veins; if it’s there, it won’t go away so easily, we have plenty of reserves that just get bigger and better with every new smile and every new hug we get from THAT person. It’s enough to go around, it’s certainly enough to cover 364 out of the 365 days of the year.
So how about it? Huh, huh?
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Sunday, 13 February 2011
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About Me
- Hormonally Yours
- A bit erratic, a bit psychotic, a little calmer than when I started this, but still not out of the woods. This is kind of a diary, in more ways than one, one being that, with the exception of maybe one person (allowed), I'm the only one reading it, at least for now. Since it is of a rather personal nature, I'm not really sure anybody else would be interested anyway. If you do drop by, accidentally, enjoy and please don't mind the hormonal banter. I was "born with it."
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