Name one movie love scene in which the removal of socks is neither comical nor awkward. Or any scene that features sock removal of any kind, for that matter.
Socks: The cause of movies' most boring deleted scenes, which are not even available on Blu-Ray.
For singles, the month before Valentine's Day is like the month before Christmas, except the ads make you want to punch Cupid instead of Walmart.
For the record, I'm content with being single. I just think Valentine's Day was invented to make couples feel like they're better than everyone else.
Some people might argue, "But that's not the original intent behind Valentine's Day!" But you know what? That's not what people primarily celebrate anymore. Hey, Christmas was created to celebrate the birth of an entire religion, not to, say, buy a Lexus with a bow on top for your WASPy daughter's Sweet 16.
And taken guys taken guys don't have it much better than singles on V-Day. Taken guys have to be creative, avoid cliché, find perfect gift(s), be romantic and wow his mate in unprecedented fashion.
Taken ladies? Look pretty.
Married men probably can get away with buying one solid gift for their wives. Unmarried taken guys probably have to brainstorm three gifts and/or creative ideas and endure something inordinately girly in the process. ("Project Runway" does not apply here, because it is frickin' awesome.)
Basically, Valentine's Day's the only holiday that puts a burden on men and almost none on women. Ladies have it much rougher than guys on Arbor Day, though, so it totally evens out.
Nielsen ratings are the land-line phone bills of the 21st century.
The same people who tell you to "Get a Mac" when you have a problem with a PC are likely to say "Get a sister" when your brother dies.
Perhaps the only thing more disingenuous than friends' impersonal texts wishing me (and countless others) happy holidays is the anger I allegedly feel about getting them.
I wonder how many kidnappings transpired in 1966 due to shady van-drivers' shouting "The Magical Mystery Tour is waiting to take you away!" at gullible hippies.
The fifth dentist doesn't recommend Trident because, quite frankly, he needs the business.
Perhaps my greatest failure as an improv comedian was my inability to make out with other failed improv comedians.
Just call me Mr. Softee. More accurately, call the ice cream truck guy that. Most accurately, don't call anyone that, as it is a fake name.
I just told a dancer to break legs, plural, at her next performance. It's at least twice the luck, maybe more, depending on how much pain she inflicts upon others.
"Don't take this the wrong way" is much easier to accept when it involves traffic patterns, but both versions can crush you.
Even my sink is disappointed that I'm staying home tonight:
The handle is the single, perfect tear.
Hot dogs, cuisine of the world's most eligible bachelors. (Not necessarily by choice.)
Everybody's got a hungry heart, but mine's clogged because it wants bacon.
