I bloody love valentines day, barf.... that was my mini mouth vomit.
I think the last time I enjoyed valentines day was when I was a Restaurant Manager decorating all the booked two tops with those candy message hearts and secret love notes underneath the side plate. Always loving an opportunity to be creative on a budget, I asked the person booking what message they would like, and told them it had be a little but more than the boringly predictable 3 word combo. It was super fun until all the lovey dovey young couples turned up, the parental escapees on their annual date night were more hilarious. Then there were couples where I looked at the unhappy pairing and wondered why they had even bothered booking? They should have put the cards back on the shelf in Kmart & had dinner with an actual friend.
I was newly single then, and am still single now. That break up was hideous.. an I love you lie upon lie until FB finally put the truth under my nose via an image in my FB feed. Ta Facey.
For many years Valentines Day has represented a Hallmark occasion often and strangely enough accompanied by red undies disguised as a rose purchased under the influence of passion pop at your local pubs parmy night. How do you know those undies will even fit???? I didn't even know they were undies I thought it was actually a rose!!! Just so you know I was always on the service end of the valentines day deal never the romance end. I never got gifted a pair of undies disguised as a rose, I had to learn about that from finding an abandoned pair of undies and rose stem in a restaurant loo, whist doing the rounds making sure my staff were completing toilet checks. The unraveled, abandoned undie rose was evidence they were not.
Valentines day before the selfie age was relatively safe. In high school there was no sexting, we all gossiped at lunch time over who might sneak a card or a kiss up the back of the bus. Occasionally some one got a mini white teddy bear with a red bow on its neck. Not me, I got a card once but that boy at ballet gave us all a card, beautiful ballerinas all of us, so how could he have possible chosen just one??. I think he felt compelled in the end to date the school secretaries daughter, I so wished that it would have been me, dressed as the autumn leaf for a solo in our annual recital. Next year.
I am 50 and still saying; next year, maybe next year is my year. I have never been out to dinner on valentines day ever. I usually wake up on Vals morn and start singing Beyonce's "All the Single Ladies" and krumping around the house, which is another possible reason I am still single... my daughter always said "mum don't krump" To me its the equivalent of humming the "Rocky" theme song before getting in the boxing ring, or "Chariots Of Fire" as I run so as to not miss the post office or bank. Or "We Are The Champions" after I magically painlessly completely my post or banking transaction. Or Kylie's version of "Celebrate" when I need to " celebrate good times come on..." or anything else. Its part of the soundtrack of my life, alongside various other songs off Kate Ceberanos Brave album. such as "Young boys are my weakness" or "Just be brave and stay" lyrics to live by lol
So I have a small growing Instagram following which is the cause of me being on the receiving end of a lot of messages, I mean a lot of messages. not all of them business related... fancy that. Its not like I give good vag tips.... or post yoga asana in lingerie snaps barely hiding my lady garden from Instagram voyers. Maybe my yoga tops are a little skimpy (but not as skimpy as some) Its not like I am in my 20's any more, but still the messages arrive. Most are not so creative, no comments on posts or engagement just straight to the DM. Which in these instances stands for Delete Me. I have messages from someone telling me that they want to "MAKE me their soulmate and wife" other saying that we should immediately be best friends, it gets a little obsessive. Some just ask if I know Ricky Ponting?
I really should start a foot & toe peepers page and post images of my weekly pedicure, yogi toes and ballerina feet. Apparently this can get people quite excited. I suppose i like my feet, I like other feet too.... I guess. but definitely not as much as some people. This should absolutely be a pay per pick. I will put that on my to do list after building the @omiesbali website and be sure to adjust my insta profile accordingly to redirect people to my money makers.... all ten of them. I regularly get asked to join all manner of interestingly titled chat groups none involving clothes, which as an experiment I may well do .... just so that I can write about it here. Or maybe I will put that on my to do list, right at the very bottom.
As you can imagine my inbox is quite colourful and reasonably entertaining but it can be an arduous task weeding through these messages to find the ones that you want to reply too.
Whats this about Galentines Day as the day before has been re branded, a day so that we can justify hanging out with our besties watching Grease, braiding each others hair and not getting laid. Honestly thats 365 days of the year for me, much to my disappointment. Look the net net here is that there are 365 days of the year that you can celebrate all the love in the world with your best mates, we shouldn't need an annual day reminding us of their importance, are there any days of the year left to open for us to claim for yet to be identified celebrations?
Back to Vals day I received a dick pick, lucky me!!!!! I was so underwhelmed by this image that I had to turn my phone on its side and take a few minutes to figure out what exactly it was that I was looking at. It was a flaccid penis. I had not requested this image, nor had I even been in a conversation with this person for over 6 months. There was no sexy talk, clearly cause if there was I guarantee that image would have/ should have been way more impressive. No innuendo not a nothing. yet there is was a soft cock taking up room on my hand held hard drive. I deleted it like I was playing to win Space Invaders at the corner shop. You know where you press the button so fast that you miss zillion times before you actually get a space ship and score the bonus points... but I managed to delete it.
I stupidly responded the the FPP (flaccid penis pick) "Please don't send me images of this nature ever" and some other kind of uptight righteous phrases I can't even remember. The message that I received in return was that "it was his choice and right to send me this picture as it not only showed his lust but his love for me" Without even going down the PC, sexual harassment, me too path... might I remind readers at this point... like you need reminding that this lusty image was a picture of a flaccid penis.
I inspired some one to send a picture of their flaccid penis...... I don't know what is worse the image of that FPP or that I inspired zero, zilch, nix, nada, noin, none, nothing diddly squat.
I choose to be very adult after that and delete any future messages from this sender with out reading and or being tempted to respond. Naturally I then made a very entertaining Instagram post and texted my girlfriends and had a val gal pals day giggle.