An Uber Valentine Story

This is what you can get for your dude, if he hates chocolate. Yummy.

Bad Puppy was so sorry for his book-nabbing attempt that he bought mommie Nalini Singh's newest, Mine To Possess, through Amazon. I got a little gift e-card this morning with a coupon from "Jiggle Low with puppie kisses." Awww. I didn't know Jiggle Low has an Amazon account!

Maybe I'll buy him a Valentine pizza....

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So what's the most romantic thing you've ever done for Valentine's? Most of us get hearts and flowers, but I had a friend who WAS FLOWN to France for the dinner, flowers, and engagement ring. Now, THAT. WAS. ROMANTIQUE.

The most romantic thing I ever did for a boyfriend was fill the bed with little colored paper hearts that I cut out while he was at class, then lie in bed in my sexy red negligee to wait for his return. Unfortunately, he came home with a buddy and I had to pick paper hearts out of my hair all by myself. My first boyfriend--he didn't understand romance at all, as you can tell.

I learned my lesson. No more cute little paper hearts for ANY OCCASION.

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Here's one thing you should never do before you go out on a (pre)Valentine's Day date.

NEVER EVER help your friend spud cemented-down floor tile with a jackhammer.

That's exactly what I did all yesterday evening. It was noisy, hard work, and unbeknownst to me, the tile dust and the sticky stuff that hardened underneath combined to become Invisible Aquanet in the air. I didn't notice till I was in my car that my hair was stiff as Amy Winehouse's beehive, except that mine looked like the nest of a hentai sexwitch, sticking out AND not moving. Even in a convertible. It was just like anime-hair, and at every stoplight, all the neighboring drivers stared.

When I got home, I couldn't drag a comb through it at all. Parts of it was scrunched and sticking out sharply like porcupine needles. Then my date arrived and I had to answer the door looking like I could kill someone.

He waited while I showered, but that made it worse! The water added to the Invisible Sticky Aquanet and made the tiledust into some kind of InvisiPaste. My hair, as you know, is very long and there's a lot of it. I now had a Tangled Nest of Horror on top of head. No amount of conditioner helped. With both hands, I gathered the nest and piled it on top of my head and it STAYED. Why? Because conditioner and melted tile gunk made a perfect hairsetter, of course.

I stepped out of the shower. Peeked into the mirror. Yup. I looked like Elvira without the cleavage. Since it was not Halloween, I couldn't actually pretend that was my intention either.

My date. He patiently waited.

I told him my problem. He didn't understand, since hey, you just wash the stuff out of your hair, what's the big deal? Long locks is the same as short male hair, right? I gave him the look that kungfu dudes always had before they started swinging their braid of doom to cut off the enemies' head. Except that my STIFFENED TENTACLES OF DEATH wouldn't SWING; it would just spike the person to death, I suppose, if I wildly thrust my head around like some maddened bull.

It did not help when he suggested shaving it.

It did not help when he suggested going out with an Elizabeth Taylor hair scarf.

It did not help when he suggested that he go and buy me a wig.

I think he got the idea that his suggestions weren't appreciated when I started to fly through the air using my Stiffened Propellers Of Evil towards him, shredding clothes and skin. I warned him that any moment now, and the hair was going suck his brains out for Valentine food.

Finally, I calmed down and told him to go on out by himself. I didn't feel like going out any more. The Hair had exhausted me.

Left to myself, I soaked in my really, really scalding Jacuzzi tub for forty-five minutes, applying a little baby oil to the shards on my head every once in a while. Hey, the Aquanet started dissolving. My tentacles actually felt like hair again.

Finally, I got out and combed my hair through with that glazy stuff that magically smoothed out tangles. I dried my hair and swung it around like I was Cher. I didn't look fabulous like she did on the Grammys, though, since my body at that moment resembled that of an over-boiled lobster. Forty-five minutes in scalding water isn't so good for tender flesh, you know.

The date called to make sure I was okay. I can't remember what I said to him because I'd decided to consume the whole bottle of wine I bought for our date all by myself after the hairy ordeal. I think I told him I had taken his advice and had gone bald.

You know I'm going out to buy a Carol Burnett hair cover for the next time I go jackhammering tile floors.

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