Happy VD

I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day. It actually makes me want to puke. All that forced lovey-doviness...blech. But I did have a great V Day once. When I was nine, all I wanted in the world (besides Seventh & The Ragged Tiger on vinyl) was to get my ears pierced. I wanted it so bad that I could taste it. I begged my dad every day and was shot down every day. I finally gave up and resigned myself to a life of naked ear lobes. On Valentine's Day 1985, my dad presented me with a tiny red satin box and, when I opened it, I was very surprised to find two teeny gold studs. Not only was a surprised, I was a little pissed! In fact, I thought this was the meanest present ever!

"Dad," I shouted, "I can't wear these. You won't let me pierce my ears!"

And that is when he told me that I could get my ears pierced, as long as I wore these teeny, elegant gold studs. He has regretted it ever since. I double, triple, quadruple pierced my ears. I pierced my nose. My belly button. I wore safety pins in my ears. He was a broken man. Poor Daddy.