Oh Say Can Vee Dee?

Well, today’s the big day.  VD.  Valentine’s Day.  Or, as we say around here, “Viagra Day.”

Guido is pretty direct about it.  “Get me flowers,” she says.  “Or get yourself some bandages and a place to spend the night.”

Ha!  What a kidder.  But then I read my email.

A woman allegedly slipped sleeping tablets into her former de facto’s dinner and waited for him to fall asleep before tying his hands and feet and cutting off his penis.  The man died in Royal North Shore Hospital from his injuries, including stab wounds to his jaw and leg. – Daily Telegraph

Wow.  Say it with scalpels.  Not to mention knock-out pills and stout rope.  I think what we’re reading here is a story of true commitment and everlasting love, don’t you?

That story originates in Australia, as does this one:

A woman accused of setting her husband’s penis on fire will answer a murder charge in March.  Rajini Narayan, 44, appeared briefly in the Adelaide Magistrates Court today charged with murder, arson and endangering life.  The mother of three allegedly set fire to the genitals of her husband, Satish Narayan, in December 2008.

Mr. Narayan suffered major burns and died several weeks later.

The fire also gutted the family’s suburban Unley home leaving a damage bill of about $1 million.  A previous court hearing heard Narayan had told neighbours: “I’m a jealous wife, his penis should belong to me. I just wanted to burn his penis so it belongs to me and no one else … I didn’t mean this to happen”.  – Daily Telegraph

Puts a whole new meaning to the term, Shrimp On the Barby, don’t it, mate?

Guido is ‘way too practical for such extreme measures.  She would never do anything that would risk burning down the house.  That’s one reason she secrets within reach an assortment of small but extremely dangerous household implements– branding irons, poultry cutters, knives, piano wire, and this peculiar foot-long battery-activated cylindrical item with fat purple geloid knobs and hard plastic points that she shoves up my ass now and then, usually on the birthdays of her favorite holy martyrs.  One of whom is St. Valentine.

So!  Flowers it is.  Dear.