Originally Posted: Sunday, June 1, 2014
It’s my mother’s birthday today. I got her a bunch of shit showcasing what a fucking thoughtful son I am and indirectly thanking her for putting up with my degenerate ass for all these years and undoubtedly having years of her life shaved off since my birth (I tried to come out the wrong way. trolled).
In addition to all that, flowers are mandatory. I’ve always hated gifting flowers. Don’t get me started on how fucking stupid women’s obsession with diamonds is and how men who purchase them are chumps. So I’m gonna go spend money on something that’ll wither and die in a week? Fuck a depreciating asset. I’m a hypocrite because I spend money on retarded shit all the time, but I’m working on it.
Lately, I’ve been gifting potted flowers when the situation calls for it. Here’s why:
1. If it’s for someone who has a balcony or a yard, they can plant it. It’s seen as more thoughtful. Google some shit about that particular flower. It brings peace to a household or some shit and I wanted them to be everlasting for you.
2. You stand out from the bunch. I’m at my mom’s house right now. I already gifted her some potted Lilies or some shit along with all the other shit (delivered gradually over the course of an hour for added impact). The doorbell rings. I turn down my M-Audio monitors and emerge onto the balcony overlooking our front door wearing only basketball shorts, having just come back from a run to see who it is – partially hoping it’s one of my mom’s friends so that I could show off my glistening body and abundance of chest hair. An advantage of not having a dad is that nobody wants to turn my childhood bedroom into a fucking man cave once I move out and I still keep a bed and some other shit here.
Sister walks in with my niece in one arm and a bouquet of motherfucking Lilies in the other. I grin.
“Hey Sis, hey there Niece! What’s the haps? Very thoughtful bouquet, sis. Is it the kind that doesn’t wither and die in a week? I hear Google’s been working on that.”
Sis walks into the kitchen and sees my magnificent potted Lilies sitting on the table: the focal point of the entire room. Last night, I sprinkled two packets of that plant food shit that comes with bouquets onto it, watered it, and kept it hidden in the back yard overnight. This plant is in pristine fucking condition. My sister looks like she’s about to cry, shit, and vomit. At the same. Damn. Time. I just showed her up in front of her small child. Maybe this will be Niece’s first memory.
3. So if you’re on good terms with the person you’re giving flowers to, it’s seen as more thoughtful and shit. If you’re not, you just trolled the shit out of them. Enjoy watering these bitches daily. I just cancelled all your future trips with $14. Now that’s value.
4. I haven’t been in a relationship since high school and I haven’t given a girl flowers ever. But if a situation arose in which I found this gesture appropriate, I am confident that potted flowers would be superior to a faggy bouquet in every arena.
If shit goes well, she’s reminded of you all the time and is more likely to hit you up for dick.
If shit goes south… enjoy never going on vacation again. And enjoy crying about the dick you’re missing out on as you flower your fucking Petunias with tears.
Doesn’t even have to be flowers. Get a Mexican bitch a fucking cactus.