And Not Her Blog

So I saw Valentines Day.
It was horrible.
I hate myself for having seen it, so bad was it in fact, that within 15 minutes I was contemplating ways in which I could get out of the cinema and run screaming down the street clawing at my face and eyes.
My first instinct was to fake a call, run, and then later explain to the Korean guy now saved in my phone simply as "do not answer" that my father had a stroke and I had to leave and pack and go to Australia and that I'm sorry but he should stop calling.
But instead I camped it out - hating myself.
Never have I witnessed such unmitigated crap.
(This was Tuesday by the way... it's Sunday and I'm still mad. Its Sunday and Valentines day and I'm having rape-like flashbacks)
And the salt to the wound was that somewhere in close proximity some garlic eating mother fucker was breathing all up in my airspace.
I had to watch a romantic horror show while breathing some randoms garlic breath.
Why.