There now, all better. I’m so happy. And I know Scarlet is happy too. So that makes two of us. I don’t get involved in politics or political discussions at all because what pisses me off about most politicans is that they have their own agendas. That greatly conflicts with my feeling that politicians should serve the people blah blah blah. So let’s see, if Hillary becomes Giuliani’s opponent, score. Who will vote for her? If we’re ready for a woman president, it certainly isn’t Hillary. Besides, I refuse to perpetuate the Bush/Clinton/Bush/Clinton ping pong match for the White House. Get someone else in there already. Since 1988 we’ve had the same two families in there. What kind of democracy is that?
Now before the bleeding hearts jump all over me because it’s just “so cool to be liberal” in D.C., I’d like to state that while I am not a Republican, Giuliani is everything I could want in a president. He’s economically conservative and socially liberal. Though, he doesn’t advertise that fact, which is fine by me. What this country needs is a New Yorker, who can fucking get things done instead of another country bumpkin who wants to fight a useless war or get his dick sucked by some intern. And you can spare me the Giuliani criticism, I will never listen to you. Giuliani will forever be in my good graces for what he accomplished with New York City BEFORE September 11th. Times Square, for example, was a seedy pit of sadness overrun with hookers and thieves when I was a wee Velvet. You couldn’t even go there. I remember going to the Bowery with my parents and holy shit was it scary. I think Koch was too busy drinking and going to Knicks games to bother to clean up the city. A few years of Dinkins, then Giuliani gets in there, and he cleaned it. Instead of handing out vouchers and money to the poor, he had them work for it. In exchange for that money, they had to help in some public project of cleaning a park for example. Brilliant. The man is fucking brilliant.
Okay, I’m done with that for now. On to V-Day.
I’m not a big Valentines day person. I worked at a restaurant for many years and I remember all those pain in the asses coming in, wanting everything “just right” and paying double our normal prices because everything was a “special.” Vomit and gag. Personally, I’d rather not make reservations 100 years in advance just to overpay for some holiday dinner that means shit in la grande scheme. Sadly, it also seems to be the holiday that matters more to the people who have no significant other and therefore become depressed. Last year I was trying to go to bed early until that fucking New Jersey came over with flowers and dinner. This Valentines Day, Sherlock gingerly warned me that he might be out of town for work.
Sherlock: Well, it’s Valentines Day, don’t you want to do something?
Velvet: You forget who you’re dealing with. I’m the girl who almost punched out the delivery guy on Christmas Eve when he showed up with your ‘I’m sorry’ flowers because he refused to follow my specific instructions to return the flowers and call you and say they were rejected. I’m not that romantic girl.
Sherlock: Oh. Okay.
So then fate intervenes in the way of an ice storm Tuesday night and there was no way he could go anywhere. Fine. We both worked out of our respective houses during the day. And by “work” I mean, I read the hilarious posts of this new blog that was just brought to my attention Tuesday night. Apparently one of you is commenting as me, with my real name. And yes, I know who it is.
Anyway, Sherlock and I connected for lunch. When he came over to pick me up, he snuck something into my house. It was a heart shaped box of candy with a red Velvet cover. On the cover of the box, he did some Martha Stewart handiwork with glue and glitter, and if it didn’t have our real names on it and a picture of us, I would have taken a picture of it and posted it here. It was like that heart we all drew on our notebooks in 7th grade – Velvet & Sherlock 2getha 4ever! Damn I love him.
Then he got me a card, and wrote some very sweet things in it. It almost made me cry but not really. Later on I read the card again and I realized, I have never seen his handwriting. Other than a shopping list or a reminder note here and there, I have not once seen his handwriting. Does anyone remember what it was like to get a letter? In the age of email, texting and Instant Messaging, there’s no more hand written love letters.
He went back home after lunch, and I fucked around online. Then, while most couples were spending their life savings on dinner, I was cranking out 3.5 miles at the gym bitches! Sherlock came back over later on and we watched a movie and went to bed. And, I’m home again because no one can get out of my neighborhood. I’m sorry Washington D.C., but where exactly do my tax dollars go? Because you certainly didn’t use them for any plowing of snow in Dupont Circle. Nice work.