So.  You may have noticed I that I don’t write many posts about the holidays.  Aside from noting my fear of being trampled to death – to death – in a shopping frenzy at Wal-Mart and teaching you how find joy in the holidays and soothe a sinking Christmas spirit with plenty of Christmas spirits, I tend to avoid the subject because it’s just so done. We’re all well aware of the existence of various major holidays and their personal meaning to us.  I don’t really expect you to care about their personal meaning to me.

Besides, if I were to recap some of the holidays so far this year, there’s nothing I could really say that you wouldn’t already know and doesn’t already apply to at least 75% of you:

1 January: New Year’s Day – Sported a massive hangover while setting unrealistic expectations on myself for the new year, spawned mainly by post-Christmas seasonal depression and the aforementioned hangover.

17 January: Martin Luther King Jr. Day – Patted myself on the back for not being racist.

2 February: Groundhog Day – Early spring!  I’ve never wanted to kiss a rodent so much in my life.

3 February: Chinese New Year – Bring on the Year of the Rabbit, or the year of “getting things done,” as a friend informed me.  Last year kicked my ass.

So what’s next?

Ohhh, yes.  That notorious February holiday that seems to get everyones’ panties in a twist and no one across the internet can seem to stop writing or thinking or talking about.  And I’m not referring to Presidents’ Day.

I’ve never been a huge fan of Valentine’s Day.  Of course I always said that back in the days when I was perpetually single.  But I was surprised to realize my take on the whole thing didn’t really change after finding myself in a serious relationship, then engaged, then married.

The cheesy cards, the naked Cupid butts, the hearts – oh god, the hearts.  I abhor hearts.  Anyone ever notice that the shape kind of looks like a naked Cupid butt?  I think they planned it that way.

Yes, that was disturbing.  Sorry.

Even when I was a little girl, I was never really into hearts – didn’t draw them to dot my i’s and I certainly didn’t buy any heart-shaped jewelry.  A “boyfriend” bought me a heart-shaped necklace once.  I wore it (I mean, c’mon – the gesture was sweet and what kind of girl doesn’t like hearts?), but I didn’t enjoy it.

The only kind of hearts I really like are the ones that come in accordion-crinkled paper cups and I can eat them because they are made out of chocolate.

But  my (very unoriginal) point is, not only is V-Day far too commercial – it’s far too forced.  It squeezes everyone into a one-size-fits-all heart-shaped box of torment and I’ll be damned if Kurt Cobain didn’t know exactly what he was talking about when he wrote that song.

So one year, after Justin and I got engaged, I suggested we get each other goofy gifts for V-Day.  Since we had an upcoming wedding and honeymoon, there would soon be more than enough romance to keep us swimming in gag-worthy giggles and meaningful looks and candlelit dinners for the remainder of the year.

In a stroke of what I deemed to be sheer genius (and wasn’t being worn by every other guy you passed on the street 5 years ago), I bought him this shirt:

It met all of my gift requirements:  It was practical (who couldn’t use another t-shirt?), it was funny (especially since it was given to him by his soon-to-be wife), and it was true. He wore that thing everywhere.  All in all, a successful V-Day gag gift.

But Justin?  Oh, Justin.  He pretty much broke every rule in the male gift-giving rule book – Rules that, unfortunately for men, still apply to gag gifts.  What?  You’re not aware of the male gift-giving rules?

Allow me to enlighten you:

1.  Don’t give her something that could, in any way, imply that she’s fat.

2.  Don’t get her something that will make her feel like the least sexy woman alive.

3.  Don’t give her something that makes her think that you think she’s fat.

4.  Don’t give her something that will limit her ability to turn her head without experiencing intense pain for at least three days.

5.  Don’t give her something under the guise that it’s for her but it’s really for you.

6.  Don’t give her something shaped like a heart.  (Oh wait, that’s just for me.)

7.  Most important, don’t flippin’ call her fat!

So this is what Justin bought for himself me.

Are you ready for it?

It’s painful.

Here we go…

Yep.  Carmen Electra’s Aerobic Striptease.

The complete box set.

I think I just heard all of my male readers simultaneously high-five each other across the internet.

You’re thinking it’s not that bad, right?  It’s kinda funny… and a lot of women were getting into that kind of workout at the time.

But do you remember the rules?  Let’s recap.

1.  By buying me a workout video – one I definitely didn’t have on my Amazon wish list – he broke the cardinal rule by implying I needed to lose weight.  I know that’s not what he meant by it.  But as a female, I had to go there.

2.  Okay, so it’s a workout video.  Fine.  I know I’m never going to look like the women in workout videos.  But I’m telling you right now – there is nothing on this planet that will make you feel less sexy than staring at Carmen Electra for an hour while you’re huffing and puffing and turning red and short of breath and get your dirty minds out of the gutter – I was talking about working out!

Except this.  This might make you feel less sexy.

Image source

3.  See #1.

4.  I tried the first video.  I did.  And you know how strippers kind of throw their heads around a lot so their hair flies about all sexy-like?  (Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.)  Well, yeah.  I don’t really want to talk about it.  Let’s just say I probably should’ve invested in a neck brace.

5.  Please.  Like this gift was for me.

6.  Speaking of heart-shaped butts, if anyone has one, it’s Carmen.

7.  And we’re back to #1.

So all-in-all?  My V-Day gag gift experiment was a bust.*

This year I think we’ll just stick to pizza and a movie.

*Note:  I really did laugh.  I mean, c’mon – giving your girlfriend strip aerobics DVDs takes balls.  He’s just lucky I let him keep his.