I like'em washed up and just a little fucked up

Ok, let's put this whole sordid Day Of Bitterness, Emotional Blackmail, And An Overload Of Hearts And Cherubs behind us, shall we? I would like to state for the record that I only heard the creepy music from Friday the 13th (ki, ki, ki...ma, ma, ma) a few hundred times instead of the constant loop it usually plays in my head when Valentines day gets too close. You may be wondering if Jason Voorhees is trying to telepathically tell me to continue his killing spree (well we do have a Crystal Lake here). I wonder that too, sometimes. But then I remember that it was just a movie so I take off my hockey mask, put down my butcher knife, remove unwanted hands from my thigh, and eat some pie. Mmm, pie