This Week for Happy Hour: Love Bombs

Today is February 9^th.  Valentine’s Day looms close above, casting its shadow like a B-52 (the massive WWII-era bomber, not the terrible 80s band which, somewhat ironically, wrote ‘Love Shack’).  The question is, friends, what kind of bomb is the airborne leviathan going to drop this Valentine’s Day season?  What’s coming out of the mechanized belly of institutionalized romance-ishness?  Will it be a love bomb?  I hope so.  But I have my worries.  If it’s not a love bomb, then what do you call it?  What is that nasty little Trojan horse impostor?  (My God, I just realized how gross it is that there is a condom company called ‘Trojan’ – that which tricked the recipient into the act of receiving by misrepresenting itself.  Yikes!  If I wore those silly things I would totally switch brands.)

Anyway, here’s the thing: it sucks that people need to schedule (merely once a year, mind you) time to be romantic with each other.  And clog up all the restaurants on the same stinking night.  And ugh with the grand romantic gestures, already.  Let’s face it: whoever wrote the movie “Say Anything,” where John Cusack stands outside that girl’s bedroom window holding up the stereo that’s playing “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel – that guy wins.  Okay?  Somebody give him the Gold Medal for Best Grand Romantic Gesture Concept of All Time and let’s all just dispense with the cliché hokey pokey and get on with our non-fiction lives.  Romantic or unromantic as they may be.  Grand gestures are for movies and people who have to be convinced that they’re in love.  And such gestures are usually – let’s be honest – silly.  Oscar Wilde said it well: “Nothing spoils romance like a sense of humor in the woman.”

 My point is, grand gestures only last a moment, or a day.  Maybe the memory can be prolonged with a photograph or by loading up on your ginko biloba, but still, it’s fleeting.  So what about the rest of the time?  Which springs to mind this holiday: Valentine’s Day.  Ay.

I’m not saying don’t bother with romance.  It’s a good way to prod love in the direction of longevity.  And it makes people feel good in a genuine and substantial way.  And that’s good.  Hey, if you’ve had it, you know that love is itself grand, when it’s not being a dog from hell.  That dirty trick played on us by 60,000 years of human evolution to keep the species afloat.  Don’t fight it.  It’ll win.  But don’t plan it either, or force your own institutions on it, or you’ll end up inevitably disappointed.  Men don’t change.  Women do.  It sucks.  Deal with it.

“Oh no,” you say.  “What a bummer, man.  However can I cope?” 

Well you’ve come to the right place, my friend.  At Rhino, we sell solutions(TM, 2010).  This week for Happy Hour, Friday 5-9pm, and the rest of the weekend, come to Rhino for a Love Bomb.  It has ten times the love of a trite grand gesture, and costs a mere fraction of the price.

“What’s a Love Bomb?” you ask.  “Is that like when, instead of bombs that blow up, the plane drops Teddy Bears with ecstasy pills in their cute little paws, and warm lavender towels tied to red helium balloons that slowly descend into your cold, dry hands, and coupons for free back rubs?”

Well, the answer is, yes, that is a Love Bomb.  And how cool would that have been to drop over Iraq about a decade ago?  I bet that after the populace sobered up they’d have overthrown their government on their own. 

But that’s not what I meant.  I meant the Valentine’s Love Bomb, the drink, which is like a Jager Bomb, but instead of Jager, it’s tasty red vodka that you drop into Red Bull, and instead of high fives and fist bumps to follow, you hug your co-drinkers afterwards.  Really hug it out.  Sexual or non-sexual – totally up to you.  Hey, even hug others nearby.  Don’t be afraid to really spread that Love Bomb around.  That shit is contagious.  Remember the Mr. Deeds aftermath?

So come try out a Rhino Original Love Bomb this weekend.  Take the edge off.  Give a hug.  And let love find you.  There’s a long list of happy couples who found their mates at the Rhino Bar.  I’m even on the list, if you can believe it.  And I think a few of you are too.  What a great story for the grandkids.  “How’d you meet, Grandma and Grandpa?”  “Love Bombs, children.  Love Bombs.”

Come kiss the Rhino all week in celebration of Rhino Love.

See you there!
Cheers!

P.S.  It’s my birthday on Monday!  If you so desire, come see me tonight, during Happy Hour on Friday or on Saturday until 7pm and do a Love Bomb with me!