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I (Heart) You, Babe

St. Valentine’s Day come round again, bringing with it the pure joy and sense of togetherness that is love.

It surely wouldn’t bring with it feelings of inadequacy, panic, anger, frustration, sexual frustration, crumpling under pressure, performance anxiety, fervent desire to be somewhere — anywhere — else. Surely.

Ha, don’t call it Shirley.

I’m not sure if it’s a difference between dudes and dudettes, but the men I know really have no special affection for Valentine’s Day. To us, it’s just a day where we used to get candy in school and (at least for me) that inadequate feeling when the only Valentines in your bag were the ones that got given out to everyone in the classroom.

Even when I ostensibly grew up, I never saw all that much reason to celebrate Valentine’s Day. I probably got it from my AlohaDoc, aka my dad.

I can’t remember how many times he told me the story of how, when he was a young dude himself, he used to break up with whoever his girlfriend was at the time right around the first of February. That way he didn’t have to go out and purchase a gift.

Women, on the other candy assortment, seem to love Valentine’s Day. I found this out during the first Valentine’s Day I spent with the lady who would become my wife, known to me then as She Who Must Be Having More Fun Than Anyone I’ve Ever Met Before.

We were about to swap presents when she said, “I love Valentine’s Day. It’s always been so special to me.”

At which point my heart crumbled to dust, sifted out my body and landed in a small, dry pile on the linoleum of her dad’s kitchen floor. Because, being an idiot, I’d managed to get her something remarkably unspecial. Heck, it was so unspecial, I can’t even remember what it was.

What I do remember is the look on her face, the sadness trying to hide behind a really bad poker face. I’ve learned since then. Valentine’s Day is a big deal.

Me? Still not so much. The way I see it, I would rather receive spontaneous recognition of someone’s love for me during the year than have one day where that display is mandated. I mean, is it really special when you’ve got to do it?

I’m not so sure about that.

Anyway, I don’t want to come off sounding all cynical and anti-love. I’m not. Well, not anti-love. I can’t help being cynical. I mean, after all, my eyes and ears do work and I pay attention to the world. How could I not be cynical?

But not cynical about love. Love is amazing. Love. Love will keep us together. It’s just Valentine’s Day I have a problem with.

That said, I still went out and got some very nice presents to hand over to my Sweetie. I’m not telling because she’ll probably read this before I have a chance to give them to her.

The hug’s going to be nice. As for anything else. . .

See you later, dudes.

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Through A Glass Dark(Green)ly

Jealousy is an ugly emotion. Unless it’s directed at you because you’re walking into an event with two smokin’ hot ladies on your arm.

And by you I mean me and by two smokin’ hot ladies, I mean my wife, known to me as She Who Must Be Shown Off Every Once In A While, and her friend, the Sultry Siren.

It was an entrance for the ages.

Both ladies were dolled up, dressed to the nines, with hair swept up and styled just so. Dresses tight in just the right places, and flowing along suggestively suggested lines. High heels accentuating the well-toned calves in every leg.

Provided you didn’t look in the middle of that particular grouping, you’d probably have your eyes dazzled by the pure, raw sensuality they were pumping out.

The middle being me, of course. Now, I didn’t look bad, understand. I looked pretty good — for me — in my tux, wearing a shocked, disbelieving grin as I kept looking side to side. Still, I was all right. The ladies on my arms. . . Another story all together.

I wasn’t the only person who looked either. I noticed a lot of men glancing our way, looking away, then shooting another glance at us, their eyes slightly greener as they imagined how much better they would look if they were sandwiched between the two smokin’ hot ladies.

What they didn’t know was that they couldn’t have pried my arms out of theirs with a crow bar, three elephants, a camel and one very stubborn platypus. (Which, as you know, are quite stubborn.)

As disappointed as I was that I had to give up two very nice tickets to the off-Broadway production of Sleeping Beauty, I had to feel that I’d received the better end of the deal by going to the March of Dimes Signature Chef’s Auction. Unfortunately, no, the March of Dimes wasn’t auctioning off the chefs.

Instead, the chefs each prepared a single dish and then we, the attendees, would wander throughout the high-toned feeding trough, getting a slice of awesome at each stop. In addition to the food, there were about 50 different silent auction pieces, and another live auction.

Each item or service auctioned off goes to benefit the March of Dimes and that organization’s efforts to help every mother carry her pregnancy to term, and providing care and treatment for children born too soon or with congenital defects. They are, to put it mildly, a pretty fantastic organization.

So when I had the opportunity to dress up, slink out for a night on the town with She Who Must Be Seen To Be Believed and the Sultry Siren, there was no way I was going to pass that up.

Being the object of many, many jealous glares was just icing on the cake. And I love icing.

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Boom On The Moon

You dudes know that I like to look at the night sky and talk about all the cool stuff up there.

Well, you should know that. If you’ve been around here more than once or twice. You have, haven’t you? Please say yes. I’m feeling very alone and scared now. I. . .

*sniffle*

Never mind. All better now. Minor disturbance in the equilibrium As if no voices cried out and then vanished.

Which, depending on whether or not you believe in the theory of tiny little MoonMen living on the Moon is what happened just a week or so ago.

A meteoroid struck the surface of the moon recently, causing an explosion that was visible on Earth without the aid of a telescope, NASA reported Friday. But don’t be alarmed if you didn’t see it; it only lasted about a second.

“It exploded in a flash nearly 10 times as bright as anything we’ve ever seen before,” said Bill Cooke, of NASA’s Meteoroid Environment Office.

Yep. We’ve been keeping an eye on the moon for the last eight years or so, looking for exactly what happened up there on May 17. We’re looking at the moon, because it presents a big, old target without all that pesky atmosphere. Because, you see, said atmosphere has this actually quite beneficial habit of burning up a lot of the little rocks that are headed right at your head.

Scientists are watching the moon so they can get a better handle on when the Earth travels through debris clouds that we might need to worry about.

NASA says the meteoroid was about 40 kilograms and less than a meter wide, and it hit the moon’s surface at 56,000 mph. It glowed like a 4th magnitude star, NASA says, thanks to an explosion equivalent to 5 tons of TNT.

“It jumped right out at me, it was so bright,” said Ron Suggs of the Marshall Space Flight Center.

Cooke says Earth was pelted by meteoroids at about the same time, but they hit the moon because it has no atmosphere to protect it.

If you’re like me and you were wondering how there could be a visible explosion since, with no atmosphere there can be no oxidation and no flaming explosion like we’re used to seeing here on Earth. . . Well, worry no longer.

Turns out the visible reaction seen by astronomers wasn’t an explosion, but was, instead, a flash from the suddenly molten Moon rock meeting a meteoroid at approximately a gazillion miles an hour.

Science fact for the day.

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