Valentines Day growing up was weird. My dad never celebrated it, because he already blew his love load on my mother the day before on her birthday.
Chances are that my mom made a stink one year and never dared to rock the boat again.
Mom says, “So what are we doing for Valentine’s Day tonight dear?”
Dad says, “We just went out for your birthday. Plus, we normally only go out once a week. So, don’t be a greedy bitch about it. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be eating Squirl kabobs in Kentucky for dinner, versus Veal stuffed with prosciutto, off the Grand Concourse in the Bronx. Look at it this way dear, if we went out to eat tonight, I’d just cut you off from ordering a 3rd glass of Chardonnay like I do on your birthday. So, what difference does it make?”
Hillary Hammer Time Cankles sours the mood again.
Blown load love lives, Challah.
Thank you very much.