Every estrogen ridden female in the world will celebrate their favorite holiday this week as Valentine's Day rears its ugly head. While all you morons are paying double, even triple the normal price for roses, chocolate, lame ass stuffed animals and stupid strawberries, I'll be boycotting this shit out of this stupid commercially construed celebration of women's desire to be doted on and men's insatiable desire to get laid. To me, February 14 is two things: An indication of how stupid you are is directly proportional to how much overpriced goods you buy and send to your girlfriend's work so she can display to everyone how much she's truly loved. The other thing, is the release of the annual Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue. This part of the holiday is so deep and rewarding. It goes beyond just superficial metaphors of love and admiration. It's a selfless, benevolent, exposed, and forgiving depiction of devotion and partnership. It's
love's synergy with mother nature, personified. As you can see, not unlike most issues, this year delivered big time. Ladies, if you want to make your spouse happy, take a picture of yourself and airbrush it until it looks like this. Trust me, he'll be happy.
Abbey Clancy, a photographed coke head, WAG, model, full time rocket, did every guy in the world a favor and sat nude for the ever-rewarding bikini painting/paint-on session. Honestly, if she asked, I would steal 20 kilos of cocaine from Pablo
Escobar himself, smuggle it to the United States in my colon, and sell it in
PEZ dispensers on the White House lawn for one chance with this chick. If Abbey filled out a US tax form, her W-2 should simply read: Relationship Assassin. She's so pretty, I just conceived.
