Well another year has passed, which of course means another year of me being single. I actually really enjoy it, but if there’s one day that has to try and convince me that I’m a lonely and pathetic person because of it, it’s that abomination of a 24-hour time period: Valentine’s Day. Really, this is just the stupidest holiday we have, and this is taking into consideration we also have Columbus Day. I mean, what did that guy ever do?!
But really, what this is about is how gross people get around and on Valentine’s Day. I’ve got one set of grandparents that are vacationing in Hawaii. Gross. I’ve got another set that will probably have a nice dinner, drink some wine, go home and watch Dancing with the Stars or Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Ew. My parents will probably tell each other that they love each other. I mean, come on!!
Listen people, I get it; you’re in love and you like being around another human being for long periods of time. You like to talk about feelings. That’s great. I’m so glad you’re happy, but keep that crap away from me. On Valentine’s Day, if I see a couple holding hands, I’m going to shout, “Get a room!” at them. If I see a couple making out, I’m going to yell, “Gross!”. If I see a couple with their clothes off about to have sex, well, I’m going to call the police because that is public indecency.
I know it sounds like I’m bitter about being single on Valentine’s Day, but I’m really not. One of the best parts about being single on Valentine’s Day is being able to do whatever you want with impunity or fear to ruin a “relationship” by not buying the “right” roses. Sometimes I like to buy a box of chocolates and tell the cashier they’re for a special someone, but really I’m my own special someone and I really like chocolate. However, I can’t really do that this year because I’ve already done that twice this week, and three times just seems desperate. Other times I like to watch romantic comedies and heckle them for being “sweet” and “sincere”, but I’m currently banned from all AMC movie theaters nationwide on Valentine’s Day.
This year, I might try something different. Since I’m dating myself, I might take us out for a nice couple’s dinner at the all-you-can-eat Brazilian steakhouse that I live above. And nothing says, “I love me” quite like a box of donuts in bed. I might even go to Applebee’s and get the 2 for $20 lunch special for the both of me. And if anyone asks if I’m waiting for someone else, I will proudly state that no, I am not waiting for anyone else, I am merely treating myself to a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner, is there a problem with that are you judging me can I have a third bottle of that pinot noir and bring me more meat too, thanks.
So to all of you happy couples out there, I sincerely wish you a happy Valentine’s Day. I hope you enjoy your time together and don’t run out of things to talk about. And if you see one of us helplessly single people staring at you across the restaurant tonight, we’re not judging you. We’re merely staring at you to make you uncomfortable so we can enjoy our Meat Lover’s Meat Plate for Two without gagging at the sight of you holding hands in public. Get a room.
There are many things I love in this world: my family, my friends, food, and air conditioning, to name a few. And then there is the one thing I would throw that all away for, even if just for the opportunity to be in awe for five seconds: Beyoncé. Ever since my sister first introduced me to the sweet, sweet sounds of Destiny’s Child, I haven’t been able to get over my addiction to Beyoncé. With each passing year, this passion grows larger and fonder for the world’s most fabulous force of nature. Normally, I would assert that this sort of hyperbole would be inappropriate, but we are talking about Beyoncé here! There is no way you could ever possibly over exaggerate anything about her, ever. I mean we’re talking about the woman who rented out an entire floor of a hospital for the birth of her first superbaby. Granted, it was probably so they could redecorate with red carpet and crown molding and marble and art pieces from the Louvre, but that only furthers my point.
Way back when it was announced that Beyoncé would be performing at the halftime show of the Super Bowl, I was giddy. Then, that giddiness turned ecstatic when I found out that there would be a Destiny’s Child reunion. So between all of that buildup, the San Francisco 49ers playing in the Super Bowl, and the fact that I had been drinking mimosas at a crowded bar in SF since 11am, by the time the lights went down for the halftime show, I couldn’t stand it anymore.
And then the Queen rose.
I have never seen anything prettier rise out of anywhere (except for maybe chocolate coming out of a fountain). Her fierceness could be felt through my bones, and I knew that I was about to enter 12 minutes of nirvana.
Naturally, she started with ‘Love on Top’ (of course she did!) because like love, she is also a sensation that can’t be destroyed. Quite literally, she is made of fierce, and to quote Sir Isaac Newton, “Fierce is an element that can’t be destroyed”.
And then, the segue into ‘Crazy in Love’. With each ferocious stomp of her (I’m sure) perfectly manicured limbs of destruction, my heart quite literally stopped. Other things that happened with each stomp of her high heels: earthquakes, buttons popping open, haters being silenced, spontaneous orgasms, and the heavens being shaken.
Next there were some other songs that were not my favorite (NO JUDGEMENT), but there was some pretty sick technology-schmecnology going on. Basically the consensus was that the best backup dancer Beyoncé could have was more Beyoncés. And it was fabulous.
Then, the event that everyone said they were ready for, but no one was actually ready for: The Return of Destiny’s Child. And there was much rejoicing. As always, the performance was perfection on stage, even with Beyoncé making up for Michelle’s ungreatness. For it isn’t truly a Beyoncé performance without her doing something charitable, like putting up with a walking train wreck like this:
As for the next song, I knew it was coming. You knew it was coming. But you weren’t ready for that jelly: ‘Single Ladies’. It had it all: impeccable dance moves; fabulous hair; her dancing army of clones; ‘tude strong enough to strip the paint off the Golden Gate Bridge. Just try to keep up, world.
Last but not least was the emotional destruction of your soul: ‘Halo’. Probably my favorite of all the Beyoncé songs, and boy did she deliver. I thought at some point God was going to come down and tell Beyoncé to come back up to heaven because we were not worthy. Which we are not. We are not worthy of the Beyoncé.
And so ended my nirvana, and like a crack addict coming off a 3-day binge, I curled up on the floor of the bar and cried that I had nothing to live for. After that soul-shredding performance, what do any of us have to live for?! Nothing. Except for her live show at the HP Pavilion in San Jose on July 2nd.
May Beyoncé have mercy on your soul. Beyoncé be with you.
So, as none of you noticed, we have been on a bit of a hiatus here at The Ironical Chronicle. I could say it was do to a slew of momentous life milestones. I could say it was due the obligations of living in the adult world. I could even say it was due to a freak storm that completely wiped out electricity, and thus all possible forms of communication. However, you all know it was due to sheer and utter laziness. Surprise.
In all seriousness though, it has been a busy few couple of months. In the firstly, I received an offer to become Grand Emperor of China (White Version), but I had to turn it down at the last minute because I forgot that I’m mildly racist. So I took a desk job instead. That being the case, I had to break the news to my parents that I was moving out of the house. They took it pretty stoically, considering I am far and away their child, but I could have sworn I heard giggling in their room that night. On the night I was moving, we had a big party to see who would take my room. It was very sweet.
It was also very drunk, as usually happens when you get my entire family together in a room by ourselves. Like the Bluth’s staged intervention with their alcoholic mother, this turned out to be one of the better Gullickson parties. Needless to say, in the morning I was still drunk and facing the prospect of 6 hours trapped in the car with my ruthlessly cheerful talkative father. This was probably the most hellacious experience that seemed like would never end. And I’ve been to a Catholic wedding.
After about a month in Northern California, I finally found a place in the heart of the city that is 375 glorious square feet of bachelor living! That’s right! I am single, and ready to come home alone and struggle to make a basic dinner for myself. Cooking is always exciting because I have a gas stovetop, and I never know if any of my meals are going to be my last. I’ve never been so focused in my life. But, I am extremely proud to say that I am now able to cook chicken without it being raw in the middle. I am also extremely proud to say that my stomach has never been more resilient. And I’ve been to Malaysia.
As of now, I’ve been working and living in the adult world for about 6 months, and let me tell you, I just want to retire. Or marry rich. Or win the lottery. Cause it sucks. You have to get up early, and on your own, without your mother to wake you up or anything! It’s hard! Also, you have to make your own food, and clean up after yourself, and be held accountable for your actions. What kind of bullshit is that, am I right?!
Anyways, now that I’m living in a new city on my own, I will have plenty of tales about my misadventures, interesting events around San Francisco, and embarrassing stories about my interactions with other humans. Like, for example, how I always carry spare change with me around the city to give to homeless people, who then in turn I become tight with, who then in turn tell me about all the places that have the cheapest alcohol. Usually it’s convenience stores that sell rubbing alcohol by the jug, but I’m pretty sure I’m on to something there. There is nothing cooler than having an army of homeless people, trust me.
To the select (read: awesomest) few who are still aware of this blogs existence, get ready for some awesome posts. Because I’m awesome. And you’re awesome. Let’s be awesome together.