I See Myself As The Grinch Of This Particular Holiday

Sure, mX has a two-page spread devoted to Valentine's Day love letters, a third of which is taken up by an ad for cheap domestic flights. And sure, there's a myriad of awful poetry that I could have a field day with. But you expect bad poetry on Valentine's Day. What really gets to me are the god-awful metaphors people like to use in regular prose dedications.










Chocolate bunnies are for Easter so you may have gotten confused in the gift-buying process, glow sticks fade after three hours, Gandalf is never looking for a serious relationship and I don't even want to know what a goddamn sugar snaffler is.

Wait, wasn't the sugar snaffler a less popular character on Sesame St?

Get Off My Lawn

Yes, you should. Blonde girl, call him immediately. I know I'm supposed to make fun of these, but the idea of Gran Torino as a date movie is so awesome I just can't bring myself to do it.

The Gropes Of Wrath

Accidentally, Matt? Really?

Maybe this sort of approach works, but I don't see how you can go from inadvertently reaching second base to intentionally stepping up to bat.

One More Thing Attractive People Can Get Away With

Did anyone try explaining to this gentleman that toilet training doesn't have to involve an actual train?

The Orange Badge Of Discourage

I like where this person is coming from. They've looked at the funhouse mirror of humanity that is HLAY and they've said to themselves, "I don't want to read these things, let's take out the middle man." And I agree. So, I respectfully present the Here's Leering At You alternatives to mX's badge, for the more discerning, more sarcastic romantic.










But hey, if you're reading this blog you'd probably prefer to be left alone. And so, in the interests of journalistic balance, here are the opposites.










Click for larger versions, save to your computer and print. Good luck out there, folks.

These Aren't The Darcys You're Looking For

I'm really only posting this one because it's an excuse to Photoshop this:























In all seriousness, a literary geek and a sci-fi geek getting together? That's awesome, best of luck to you.

Who's the Dos?

Word of advice, Dos: never fall in love with a piece of entertainment journalism. I remember I once dated the "J" section of Leonard Maltin's Movie Guide, 1998 edition. Sure, we had a good thing going for a while, but in the end we grew apart, especially when she refused to see or even acknowledge films like Jawbreaker, Jason X and John Tucker Must Die.

If Only There Was A Joke I Could Make About Small Furry Creatures & Balls

Welcome back, mX.

This blew my fucking mind on the train home today. Not only is there someone willingly dressing as Pikachu (I know Galactic Circus staff have to dress up, but he still chose that over unemployment), but someone's cosplay-stalking him.

To be fair though, it must be lonely being a member of Team Rocket. You'll be talking to a cute little Pikachu, there's a bit of a spark between you, then you get eaten by a goddamned Charizard. This is the extent of my Pokemon knowledge; I'm not going on Wikipedia.

I've A Lumberjacket And I'm Ok

Maybe I'm being paranoid, but sometimes it seems like mX staff are writing these to try and bait me. Still, on with the show.

You might think I'm about to make fun of bogans or alcoholics or the dentally impaired, but you'd be wrong. I'd just like to point something out to anyone trying to find love through HLAY; anyone that eagerly scours the entries every day hoping to get a mention. A physically abusive mother with three front teeth who is drunk at 10 in the morning is the leading candidate for transport romance. Are you sure that's something you want to be a part of?

Please Tell Me You Didn't Sit On His Lap

Harley, I think maybe it's time to tell you the truth. You know how all those kids at school, and then everyone at uni, and now everyone at your job keeps telling you that Santa's not real? Well, they're right. I know we probably should have told you sooner, rather than letting you grow into a 29-year-old with a warped sense of reality, but that's all in the past now. Merry Christmas.

Also, I recommend you watch Silent Night, Deadly Night as a cautionary tale against anyone dressed as Santa.

There's Probably Stalkers Overseas, Too

I'll be on holiday in Europe for the next few weeks, so there will be no updates till I get back (unless mX has greatly expanded its territory).

During that time, if you see a Here's Looking At You entry so bad it can't go unmentioned, cut it out, scan it (200 DPI or more) and send it to me; heresleering at gmail dot com. I'll do a catch-up post when I get back.

Until then, treat each other well, be kind and stop staring at that girl on the way home. It's creepy.

She'll Even Let You Go Full Fiscal

Further proof that there's nothing to do in Geelong. Except accountants.

My Name Is Legion, For We Are Many

Given that you know where he lives and you admit that you're stalking him, isn't asking for his number kind of redundant at this point?

My Puns Can Totally Beat Up Your Puns

Gee, if only you had some way of serenading her.

Also, note to mX staff: lift your pun game. The following would all have been acceptable as a headline.

Busk A Move
Buska Rhymes
From Busk Till Dawn
I Like Big Busk & I Cannot Lie

And so forth.

Firth Contact

...

No. Too easy.