Suck Up

All day long folks in the office ask "what are you doing for Valentine's Day?"  I debate whether I should respond "on a date with my secret lover Jackie Anglin (the girls have gymnastics- so that's a joke, kind of)" or "deciding which child to sacrifice to the Valentine's Day god, we're leaning towards the boy, more meaty, but the girl, she's got that innocent thing going for her." 

Instead I tell them what I believed to be the truth.  I say "oh, nothing, we're not much into Valentine's."

It's a made up holiday!  It's an excuse to sell red roses at four times the market value, Victoria's Secret underwear at 3,272 times the cost of the raw materials and to allow Waffle House to enter the reservation business (I'm not making that up).  It also means I'm going to have to spend approximately 82 more minutes on the elliptical than I planned this evening because you people keep laying out fat lawyer traps all over the office (i.e. chocolate covered EVERYTHING). 

So, thanks Wes.  Mere minutes after my final Valentine's Day Bah Humbug rant of the day, the copy room guy brings me these:

AND copy guy had heard my rant and gave me that smug grin that only copy room guys can muster.  Yeah, I know, Wes is awesome.  Jeez.  Can't decide what to get him.  Maybe a Snuggie from Walgreen's.  Way to destroy my street cred.