A Valentine's Day Horror Story.

Hey guys, I am still battling the plague - also known as the flu - and it's throughly kicking my ass. My goal is to actually write here tomorrow but for now I am going to leave you with a guest post from a new blogger I've found who is constantly making me laugh. Soooo, while I continue to lay here like a drugged out zombie, here's Staci!

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Hi everyone! I'm Staci & you can usually find me rambling over at High Cotton Blog.

I'm taking over Whitney's blog today because....I don't really know why she agreed to this. It could've been the constant flattery. Or my high-level stalking skills. Seriously, show up on her front porch if you want to post on her blog. She loves it (please don't do this. Or if you do Whitney please don't sue me all I have is a puppy.) No, but really it's because she is awesome & I'm sure you know that since you're on her blog but I don't care I'll say it anyway.

Let's talk about February. The month of loooove. And groundhogs. And chocolate. If you are expecting some cheesy Valentine's Day post, sorry. I'm not your girl. Even though I'm engaged, I have no interest to engage you (see what I did there? Ha!) in some post all about looooove & feelings. Gross.

Know what people never talk about? Their worst Valentine's Day experience ever. Lucky for you, I know there's nothing you'd rather read about than a good, painful story. My pain=your gain.

I present to you: A Mexican Restaurant & Victoria's Secret: A Valentine's Day Horror Story.

We are going back, my friends. Back 7 years (good God I'm old) to 2006. A time when seniors in high school wore this & thought they totally looked like Kristen from Laguna Beach & not a prostitute. Good times.

So sexy

In typical ridiculous high school fashion, I was dating the qUaRtErBaCk & writing his name like that. In typical quarterback fashion, he was a huge asshead. To say I didn't expect anything for Valentine's Day would be a huge understatement.

At school on the big day, I listened to all my friends talk about their flowers and their Build-a-Bears and their awesome new Dooney & Bourke bags modeled by that newcomer Lindsay Lohan. I tried not to get too upset. Valentine's Day is stupid anyway.

I really wanted this bag.

But then- miracle of all miracles- quarterback announces he is taking me out to dinner! A romantic Valentine's Day dinner! I love Valentine's Day! He is a changed man!

He picks me up that night & we drive tooooo....a grocery store parking lot! No, he's not buying groceries to make a fancy meal, he's meeting up with his dad. Ohhhh...he's getting something from his dad! Something small. Jewelry? A gift certificate to Abercrombie? How exciting.

Our next stop- El Publito! The only Mexican restaurant in our teeny tiny town besides Taco Bell. And it had really gone downhill after the owner,Carlos, had been deported back to Mexico (I am not making any of that up). As we pass the Cinco De Mayo decorations still hanging around from last year and sit down at a table giving him a good view of ESPN, I realize this is my big Valentine’s Day treat. As much chips & salsa as a girl could want. And remember I'm 17. Can't drink yet. No tequila shots to ease this pain.

It's the thought that counts blah blah blah, so I start to place my order- a chicken quesadilla with cheese sauce on top. It probably cost $6.

"Oh wait..." quarterback says, "I met Dad for a coupon. You have to order off this section of the menu, though. No quesadillas listed there."

I ate my burrito, he paid with his coupon, & I cried as soon as I got home.

Flash forward to the next year. Yes, I'm still dating him. No, I don't know what was wrong with me. I know things are going to be better. It's the weekend before Valentine's Day & he's going shopping. He has learned his lesson! I get a call while I'm sitting in my dorm room:

"Uh hey Staci."
"Oh hi! How's shopping going?"
"Yea..listen. I'm in Victoria's Secret."
---Zach Morris style pause right here. The Victoria's Secret he is standing in is the only Victoria's Secret within about 50 miles of the small towns that litter interstate 75 between North GA & South TN. It's a guarantee that the weekend before Valentine's Day it is completely packed with teenagers giggling at lingerie, men desperately trying to find something for their wives, little boys getting led around by the hand, the whole shebang. I could hear all the noise of toddlers & teenagers in the background.---
"I'm in Victoria's Secret & I am going to get you some of these PINK sweatpants, okay?"
"Sweatpants...oh. Okay then."
"Well what kind do you want? Let's see, shit sorry kid, I just knocked over a kid haha. Ok there's this green pair. They uhhhh they say LOVE on the leg. There's this blue pair. They've got an f-ing anchor or something on them I don't know. Oh, here's a purple pair. They've got some f-ing shit on the ass...like a star or something?"

This was my Valentine's Day present. A pair of $30 sweatpants. With some f-ing shit on the ass. That I had to pick out over the phone.

Is there a graceful way to end this post? I really think f-ing shit on the ass tells you all you need to know.

No matter what happens to you this Valentine's Day. Whether you get married or engaged or dumped or cheated on. If there's one thing I wish I could go back & tell myself...one thing I can share with you, it's this: you are worth the full $6 for the quesadilla. No.Coupon.Necessary. And you should just ask for the tequila. Everyone feels sorry for you anyway.

For more deep insights like this, you can visit me anytime. Thanks to mah frand Whitney for letting me post on your blog...even especially after I finished an email with "Zig-a-zig-ahhh."

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Seriously, love this girl. Go check her out and show her some love!

For now, I'm off to try and sleep this plague off for the 3rd day in a row.