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February 12, 2010

Margie's Valentine's Day Story, 2010 Edition

Margie's Valentine's Day Story, or  How VD Got Started

By Me, Margie, who updated this story from 2008 because Sweeney has had no electricity for a week, even though Hank says she still has power. So even though I'm still on island time, I had to take care of it at the last minute.  As usual. Plus when I find out who put the old copier toner in the new laser printer drum, there is going to be more than black powder up in this mess. And if you stunads opened the drum with my new mani-pedi kit from Rocco, he is going to come in here with dull scissors. Just saying.

Well, we're hip deep in the VD madness, and I thought we could all take a little break and hear the story of how VD got started.  I'm talking about Valentine's Day, and not the communicable diseases.  Although, for some, love and the clap go, uh, hand in hand. (Yeah, that just happened.  Sometimes I even make myself laugh at how clever I am.  Just saying.) 

It all started, like so many things do, with food and sex.  And not just regular missionary sex.  Which reminds me - I wonder which order of missionaries should get credit for the man-on-top-of-woman position?  My money is on someone other than priests.  Oy.

Blog VD lupercalia  Anyway, there was a Roman pagan festival held in mid-February (before there even was a February, actually, that's how long ago it was) called Lupercalia, which means Festival of the Wolf.  Romans are big on the whole wolf thing.  During Lupercalia, they, no surprise, had an animal sacrifice.  Why?  Buy into whatever mumbo jumbo you want, but I will tell you the simple truth:  because you cannot have a decent fest of any kind without food.  And since there were no big refrigerator trucks back then, they had to pretty much kill, roast and eat all in the same day.

This festival had a bit of a twist - the sacrificed (cooked) animal was skinned, and then the skin was cut into strips.  Those strips were used to, among other things, whip the young unmarried women.  They said they did it because it made them fertile.  Uh-huh.  And people wear leather thigh boots and spike heels to ward off spiders, and corsets to prevent emphyzima - I could go on, but you get the drift, even if you don't have four feet of snow. 

Then came the church.  The church, in case you didn't already know, was way down on the whole pagan thing. Which you would never know these days because Catholic schools have pagan mascots (Vikings, anyone? Talk about your rapers and pillagers - I'll bet they taught the missionaries a thing or two about positions). But nobody (at least back then) was dumb enough to cancel a big party.  Because you cannot make friends and get people to put stuff in the collection basket if you cancel the parties.  Instead, they pulled the old bait and switch and just called the Festival of the Wolf something else, which ended up, eventually, being a feast day, which is the name they give for days of Saints who don't qualify for mandatory mass.  See how we learn by reading?

And of course, there were the wars.  The Romans were always fighting someone.  For example, even now, many Romans and Senators and Bankers (filthy money-changers, if you are a biblical person) are gearing up for battle in New York federal court, courtesy of the New York AG's task force.  GO CUOMO! But that is definitely a story for another time, and may I say I hope those big banker bonuses come with a big serving of genital herpes with a side of warts: Happy VD you viper dicks. 

Blog emperor-claudius-bust Sometime in the third century, the Roman Emperor Claudius, who must have had some serious compensation issues, just saying, was PO'd because when he kept his armies out on the road for too long, they got all mushy and lonesome for their wives.  He tried bringing in some, uh, professional consultants from a non-missionary contractor, but then they had a real run on  - wait for it - VD aka STIs.  Another fun fact: the V in venereal disease is named after the Roman Goddess of love, Venus, which is totally sexist, when it should have been given its real name: Penisereal Disease, or PD, and maybe that's how PIs got the moniker of Private Dicks. This is like one of those learn more than a 5th grader, blogs, huh?

Claudio was at his wit's end (which wasn't a long trip, I'll bet, especially after he got the syph) and he came up with this bonehead of an idea: no more marriages.  As if.  Too bad he hadn't seen, like, that Time Traveler movie. I mean that girl gave new meaning to that 'forsake all others' business which my cousin Rita says is totally bogus if the guy only shows up every ten years. Back to Claudius the total moron hoser because everyone knows you can't stop marriage, especially this time of year, when at least as many kisses begin with Kay as begin with beer.  Not to worry though, as you can plainly see, Claudo had so many diseases that eventually his nose fell off.  So he got at least part of what was coming to him.  And I'm telling you, if your nose falls off, I'll bet it's not the only thing.  Just saying.

The church in the third century was apparently worthless on the subject, because they went along with this crackpot plan and advised all the priests not to perform any more marriages.  Which had to do more with real estate than fidelity, but that's another blog.

But lo and behold, (Do we all remember what that means?  It means, listen up -  miracle comin') one priest decided to defy all the dimwit directions and he kept performing marriages in secret.  His name?  Oh yeah, Fr. Valentine.  

Padre Valentine got caught.  Who ratted him out?  Some jagoff who was probably too much of an asshole to get anyone to marry him, in secret or otherwise.  Seriously - all throughout history, any time some bad shit happens, you'll find a jagoff somewhere at the bottom of it.

Anyway, Fr. Valentine was thrown in jail and sentenced to death.  While he was in jail, he fell in love with the warden's daughter.  Tragedy all over this mess, huh?  On the day he was sentenced to death, he left her a note, declaring his abiding love, and he signed it "From Your Valentine."  The date of his execution?  Yup - February 14th.

It took the church another two hundred years to get around to naming the holiday St. Valentine's Day.  Not too quick on the uptake, those guys.  And seriously?  I think Ye Olde Hallmark Shoppe had something to do with it.

Like all good stories, this one has a moral.  Actually, this one has several.  In the spirit of Fr. Valentine, who was all about choices, I'll let you pick your favorite.  Or you can make up your own and share it with the rest of us.  See how nice that is?  I am very nice today because I have lots of chocolate in some very interesting shapes, along with some very sweet plans for later.  The candy is hidden and the plans are a secret.  I'm not that nice.

Morals from the VD Story:

A.  Love conquers all, including idiot commanders in chief and heads of church and/or state.

B.  War is dumb as hell, and if you try to make it more important than home and hearth, you are going to get a nasty disease and hopefully die miserable and alone. (I like this one the best.)

C.  When you hire whore sub-contractors during a war, people are going to get screwed, and not in a fun way either.

D.  If you spend enough time in jail, you can fall in love with anyone. (Rocco has Oz on DVD and it's totally true.)

Happy VD to everyone from Me, Margie.  The End.

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Margie, if only the nuns had taught Valentine's Day this way, more people would have stayed awake in class.

Margie said: maybe that's how PIs got the moniker of Private Dicks.

You've been in the DVD's again, haven't you?!?!?

Can I choose E: All of the above?

Thanks for an enlightening blog, and for this:

Not to worry though, as you can plainly see, Claudo had so many diseases that eventually his nose fell off. So he got at least part of what was coming to him. And I'm telling you, if your nose falls off, I'll bet it's not the only thing. Just saying.

PS All week long Garrison Keillor has had love poems and other lovely things on his Writers' Almanac blog:

http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/

If my tea wasn't all over the desk I'd toast you, Margie :o) I agree with Elaine but add "everyone" rather than just the nuns. Your tales give new meaning to the term "his story"...
When you talk to Kathy, tell her we'll try to steer the next round of snow toward Vancouver. Looks like the slopes need some help in that department :o)

How about another retread from 2008. For Valentine's Day, 2008 I delivered flowers for a large floral company. Twenty years of pizza delivery, I think I could hang. One of the other temporary (there were more than 100) drivers delivered flowers in her Domino's uniform. But I am getting away from the story.

One of my first deliveries and was to one of the new condos on the U. City/Clayton line. The note with the flowers said I could leave the flowers in the lobby. It was about 7:30 in the morning. I rang the buzzer for the condo I was going to just in case she was awake. While I was leaving a message for the lady someone came out of the elevators and into the outer lobby. It was a young lady carrying a laptop lose, without a case, a broken down cardboard box and a blanket. She was wearing jeans and a floppy sweat shirt. Not quite the Clayton yuppie look. I did not think much of it. I left my flowers and went to my car. On the steps outside of the building there was a plain white, somewhat dingy bra on the ground. The girl who I had seen leave must have dropped it. She was in her car, parked in front of mine, waiting for her car to warm up. I knocked on the window and said, "I don't know quite how to say this, but I think you dropped your bra on the steps." She blushed and went to retrieve her clothing. It was a good 13th for someone.

One of my other deliveries was to a guy in an office. I was the second florist to deliver to him. When I walked in and asked for "Whatever his name is", his coworkers looked at the flowers and asked him, "How many strippers are you dating?"

Happy Valentine's Day Everybody.

Margie, what can I say? You take my breath away, in the nicest possible way. I'm with you on B. Happy V day!

Hi everyone! We have electricity and phones but spotty Internet, so I hope this posts. Waiting for the furnace guys because although the house is warmer now that we have power, it's still only 56 degrees in the house. Which is fine with me, and I'm wearing polar fleece INSIDE for the first time since I started La Change.

I miss everyone, but we are all safe - thanks for the warm thoughts.

Thanks, I think, Margie, for filling in for me today. And don't blame me for the office. I haven't left the house for a week.

xo
Kathy Sweeney

I did not know this!
Margie, I think you missed your calling--you should have been a teacher. Wait, you ARE a teacher. (Maybe some people need a lesson about copier toner,though.)

There' a whole line up of flower bouquets and vases of roses on the front desk at the station this morning. The world may be divided into the people who see them and think:
1. They might be for me!
2. Wonder who those are for?
3. No way they're for me.
4. S**t, I forgot Valentine's Day.
5. What are all the flowers?
6. (Me, Margie only): WOnder if I can swap all the cards around and see what happens?

Margie, My thanks from the bottom of my heart & the tip of my nose which gets frigidly remindful of it's discomfort in our cold MN 5 degrees. I will forever now on associate and appreciate my nose with red hearts and flying fat cherubs! Your Valentine's reminisce was more fun than getting cards in my elementary school desk box, back in the day. Enjoyed the tale and learned a lot!

Ha, I love the history lesson, Margie! And, I agree, B is my favorite of all the morals.

"Seriously - all throughout history, any time some bad shit happens, you'll find a jagoff somewhere at the bottom of it."

First, I think this would make a great counted cross stitich sampler.

And, next, not to politicize this VD blog, but here are two words that prove the wisdom of the quote: Dick Cheney.

Kathy, so glad you were able to check in. I've been wondering how you were doing.

Hank, I love it! So true.

And Mary Eman--you hit those two words right on the, dare I say it? nose. lol

Margie, I'm here at the office. I have one question, and one comment.

Question: if I find it, can I eat it?

Comment: the toner snafu wasn't my fault.

p.s. I was referring to chocolate.

Happy Valentine's Day!! Now that I can have chocolate again, I can feel more charitable about the day, in a "Hello Young Lovers" mood. For those few years when I could not even have the chocolate, I'll admit that I was a bit resentful of the whole holiday . . . .
Now, off to teach the aqua-aerobics class, and work off this morning's chocolate . . .

BTW, I'll be taking my two great-nieces to see Diary of Anne Frank at the Rep on Valentine's Day. Rather a serious play for such a frivilous day . . . but should put the lack of beaus in perspective nicely.

Smooches, Margie. My question is can whore subcontractors fall in love if they're in prison long enough.....

Might go see the wolfman on VD - no matter what the critics say.

Are all the flowers on our front desk for Margie?? How many Steves is she dating these days?

It's Me, Margie.

I am only dating one Steve. Ok, two but they are UPS Steve and FBI Steve which makes them totally different. One has cuffs all the time and the other one has them in his truck. Then there is Esteban and Stefan, and another one who I just call Maestro. And no, none of them think they are my one and only, so step off.

Harley, honey, given your, uh, dry spell, you can eat or lick any candy you find. Some are made for licking, as you will plainly see. Same for the rest of you. But no touching or tasting any the Steves. Just because they are willing to share doesn't mean I am. I am totally not. I mean, sure, sometimes a third is just the ticket but none of you Tarts qualify because you have the wrong equipment. Oops. So much for my secret plans.

Glad you all like my story - which is totally true. People ask me how I know all this history stuff - it's because people talk, honey, you just have to know how to listen.

Dear Me, Margie: Didn't Lilith leave Adam -- or Adam left Lilith -- because she refused to use the Missionary Position? Would love to see your thoughts on this. Loved the post!

The flowers are continuing to arrive, and are now two rows deep on the counter. There are red roses (2, one kind of dying and wilty around the edges and one gorgeous), one sunflowers in a greeen plastic holder, a huge orchid thing held up by wires and 14 or 15 vases of red carnations with cardboard teddy-bears-on-springs sticking out of them.

They are ALL addressed to Margie, and most are correctly spelled. You must know what you're doing ,girl.

Me, Margie, you have become one of my favorite writers of all TIME, well, even before this essay, but certainly now, as I'm still laughing over cousin Rita and the Steves and the "eek, a spider" boots and all that, so please have a great VD, and the same to all you Tarts, and I mean that most respectfully, as in the holiday VD, not like, you know, VD VD.

Thank you for the riotous history lesson, and for all the double entendres. sounds like you will have a great VD (And no VD) and I hope you get your electricity back and get warm. Your power just reaches through this blog-sorry for the pun. Have a great day.

Soooo....Your Me-ness. Sounds like it's starting to look like a funeral parlor at the office. Now what exactly do you intend to do with all those well wishes? Hmmmm?
I did Godspell at the Sunrise Musical Theatre in 1977. My dressing room mate was the leading lady. Opening night you could hardly put on your makeup for the "Well Wishers" bouquets. She was, shall I say, almost as popular as you are Margie.
I had to lie through my teeth after the show while she hid in the bathroom as her admirers came backstage to whisk her away.
What are your plans for VD anyways? And where are the flowers going?
I remember this history. Thanks for reminding me.
Men...They never learn do they? Sit. Stay. Call FTD. Good boy!
Just saying.

But you've got to be careful of disreputable "fake florists." We did a big story about this a few years ago.

If you google, say, "florist in Pittsburgh" you'll probably get a call center in who knows where. ANd they'll take your money, keep part of it, and then just call a real florist to order a smaller bouquet than you expected.

And you'll never know, because, of course, no one is gong to all you and say, hey, what's up with the cheapo flowers?

So if you're ordering flowers to send to somone in another town, make sure you're calling a real florist. Ask "what do you have fresh today?" or pretend you want come visit to look at the flowers yourself. If they say you can't come to the store, hang up.

This is HPR reporting.

It's a nice story. Very inspiring and mood swingers but I don't know why. That's what felt after reading it.

Margie: What?! No Etienne?

Serious oversight, not having a Frenchie Steve.

Karen, have a little respect. Stephane de Grandlie is still weeping in his absinthe over Her, Margie.

Bradley Cooper is making hot attention in the movie called Valentine's Day and it was one of the finest and for all some of the movie fans did walk in to see the comedy of the movie and some of them walk in to see the romance of the movie both of them are right above the top of the movie and we did enjoyed lot free movies we saw it and thinks it was been among the very best of movies

source
http://www.80millionmoviesfree.com

I don't think that's a real post, and I advise AGAINST clicking the link at the bottom.

Uh, oh. I did not click on the link, Karen, but I did go to the 80million site, and it sure as heck looks like a pirated movie site--either that or they nab you when you click on the movie title of your choice (which I did not do, since I'm adamantly against pirating).
You, Margie, you're terrific. Keep the education rolling!

Great story thanks for the post.

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