I don't even like the colour red. It's offensive. It shows up on people's walls, on their nails, even in their hair and it just flails its arms erratically screaming, "Look, I'm over here, look at me! Me! Me! ME!"
And then some stupid cherub with a bow and arrow or a saintly monk by the name of Valentine (who must have seriously been reassessing his eternal condemnation to celibacy) decided to glorify the god damn attention-seeker and assign it the role of official visual identifier for an entire human emotion.
And last night, red went and puked all over my dining room and used its evil accomplice,Valentine's Day, as its scapegoat. So what else were we to do but deal with it and throw a party? There were hearts, bows, Hawaiian shirts and Justin Bieber stickers (who understands the heart's mysteries better than the Biebs?), in other words, it was a true celebration of love.