Valentine’s brings out the best in people. Anxiety, whoring, empty consumerism. A day to look down at the woman you love faking an orgasm beneath you and thinking about how you could do better. Don’t feel bad, she’s thinking the exact same thing. Frenchy Morgan, the girl we got back from France when we traded Natalie Portman and a case of antibiotics, got the bright idea to show you what you could have this February 14th instead of those $29.99 flowers.com roses that cost you $82.50 out the door and delivered. You had to get the teddy bear, you poor fool. I might stick with the flowers or opt for Door Number Three provided it smelled less AIDSy. St. Valentine was kind of a dick.
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