My Valentine's Day Hangover

I hate Valentine’s Day. I seriously do. I even ranted about it at Mico of Mico last year. Somehow I’ve been lucky enough where I’m not actually in a relationship on Valentine’s Day. I’d hate to be pressured into having to get someone some kind of extravagant gift on a certain day of the year, not any day that I want to (which I will get to in a later entry).

Seriously, I wouldn’t mind the day so much if people didn’t always try to sell me shit as I’m walking down the street the day of or the days leading up to V-Day.

Leave it Mico to have a story about February 14, 2010… It’s not even a long story either because I honestly don’t remember that day too much.

I woke up, rolled out of bed, and walked to my Xbox 360 and the TV in the living room. I realized that I was supposed to be at my friend’s within the hour and I still had to get ready to take the (very lovely) CTA to my friend’s house in Little Village, four miles north of where I currently live.

But the little thing that was slowing me down was that I had a small hangover from the night before. My brother-in-law’s birthday was being celebrated and we’d been drinking, like all normal Mexicans do on birthdays. I spent about an hour staring at my TV wondering if I was up for wandering into the great red abyss to get to my friend’s or if I was going to just being a quitter and let a little hangover stop me.

Eventually I showered, dried my hair the best I could before venturing out into the cold air of the city. As soon as I turned the corner from my block onto the main street, my eyes were bombarded with red, pink, and white and I became instantly frustrated. Never had I seen people selling shit on this particular street except for the lady that I see selling tamales and/or champurrado. (I included those links to Google images to make you hungry if you weren’t already.)

I had the “honor” (which I say in my head with full blown sarcasm) of navigating through blocked sidewalks covered with tables of balloons, flowers, and miscellaneous crap people weren’t going to care about on March 14th. As I deathmarched to McDonald’s I had people shaking shit like bears and buckets of roses in my face.

I made it to McDonald’s after what felt like forever but was only about half a mile, bought my two McChickens that would help me sober up a bit, and continued on to the bus stop to wait for the (very unclean) bus that goes near my friend’s house.

And, honestly, I don’t remember what happened at my friend’s that day except the fact that we ate. I don’t remember any particular funnies, either. What I do remember is coming home for the season (and later confirmed to be the series) finale of 1 vs 100 Live. Rest in peace; Microsoft didn’t give you a fighting chance.