Adventures of a University Finalist

Monday, February 14, 2005

Valentine's Day Massacre

Why, oh why, does my girlfriend have to be so bloody smart and considerate? Why couldn't I have chosen a dumb blonde bimbo much like myself!! *sigh* Yes it's Valentine's Day and I haven't bought her a present whilst I sit down next to a gleming new copy of one of my favourite movies of all time: Robin Hood. So two things concern me: (a) how could she possibly remember how much I love this movie (I can't have mentioned it that many times except for the humourousness of the Hippo guards, the cuteness of the little bunny rabbits, King John sucking his thumb and the great title song... okay have managed to overcome any such concerns now), and (b) when she said that she didn't like the soppiness of Valentine's Day was she bluffing? Was I supposed to walk in the door with the a teddy dwarfing her in size? Or has she just been really, really thoughtful? Or alternatively, have I been a little bit of a bastard. Her card even has an ugly puppy dog on it! She knows how much I like them... I may be in a slight fix here. To be honest, if I wasn't so intent on looking after my money (AKA a big, fat, hairy cheapskate) she'd... still not have many presents. Valentine's Day is such a goddamn sham. I mean you treat your girlfriend like crap for the other 364 days of the year then maybe you have something to make up for or are intent on your stalking of your supposed soul mate then it's all fine and dandy. Otherwise, it's only reason for existing is a brilliant song by The Boss.
Meanwhile, I'm stuck here for waiting for the replacement for the old seadog that I am currently typing this on. Yes, my laptop still hasn't forgiven me for my past errs and continues to act up so a shiny new replacement that will bring me my slippers in the morning along with the Independent should be getting here today. This has resulted in me shouting "Ooooh it's UPS/DHL/some old van" from my viewpoint above the car park and my landing buds running into my room to laugh at the small oblong boxes that emerge. Damn them.