Someone, Whose Name I Am Not Allowed To Mention For Fear of Stoning, Absolutely Refused To Give This A Title

A headbutt straight from the heart.

First things first: I wish I was a brewmaster.

Today, as you might have already been told by Kay Jewelers, is the holiest of hallowed holidays: Valentines Day. I could give you a history of the day, mentioning how Saint Valencio de Vacura started this whole thing by accidentally placing the wrong address on a rabbit in 1583, but I won't bore you with the details.

Instead, I will tell you a story. It's my own personal story, one of disappointment and heartbreak.

Through various circumstances, mostly pertaining to my ability to be a giant chicken, I went into this morning sans valentine. Seeing as how my giant chicken powers would continue to run at an all time high and I would completely skirt this valentine issue with all relevant parties, and Meg White was unavailable, I decided the following: I'd simply call someone while at work and ask the question.

Here's a transcript of what went down:

"Hello?"
"Hi, is Kait there?"
"Sure, let me get her. Kaitie, your uncle wants to talk to you."
"No."

You see, I got rejected by my potential valentine. By my own niece. She's three. Once again proving that I can fall farther down the ladder than I originally thought, I was rejected by a three year old blood relative.

Now, I could pretend that I'm okay, I'd be used to this after 23 some-odd years on Earth and countless rejections in my love life. But I think this time, it stings a little. My only solace is that maybe she found someone else, some rugged looking 4 year old in a sandbox at some park, where they'll send the day making tiny castles and chasing the leaves.

So enjoy your Valentines Day, my adoring mob. At least you didn't get turned down for a kid that still wears pull-ups.

K bye.