The work day is almost over. We hope you use your last ounce of concentration to revisit this year-old TNG article. Originally published by Zack on 2/14/2008

Jesus, Google, enough already! I was pleasantly surprised last year when they didn’t post any kind of commemorative 9/11 graphic on their banner, but today’s geriatric “Love Is” cartoon has squandered any of that built-up good will. I held my tongue on Chinese New Year when the “G” and the “L” were cartoon rats flipping a calendar, but I can stay silent no longer.

Shit like this is the reason that most people hate Valentine’s Day. You’re either thrown into a deep funk because you have no one to hold hands with on the beach (although, in real life, this couple’s bladder control problem would preclude such romping) or you feel inadequate in your own relationship because you haven’t fashioned the grandest expression of eros since Zeus swooped up Ganymede.

Wouldn’t it be better if these graphics reflected real relationships?

Next Valentine’s Day, I want to see a banner where the “G” is some wasted blonde girl, screaming at the “O” because he forgot to make reservations somewhere nice. Or the “L” is my couch and the “E” is me curled up in the corner of it, tipsy, eating ramen noodles from a hot pot and watching reruns of Futurama. (In college, I had a habit of being dumped on V-Day.)

In fact, my most consistent, positive memories of Valentine’s Day have nothing to do with romantic love. The thing I look forward to most every Valentine’s day is a care package from my mom. Whatever form it takes (this year it was fudge) its nice to know that someone cares about me in a way that has nothing to do greeting cards. I got a happy Valentine’s Day email from my sister too. That was nice.

This happens to be my first V-Day where I’m actually in a relationship, and the BF and I have barely even acknowledged the holiday’s existence. We’ll be out at the TNG Valentine’s Day party tonight (Did you know we’re having a party?) but thats about it. No carriage rides, no walks on the beach. We’ll do that on our own time, thank you.

I cannot, however, promise that there won’t be a ceremonious exchange of blowjobs. I’m not completely heartless.

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