Part I. The Trashy Bash

I am born and bred valley trash. Among the many stories that follow this statement, including the one about the no teeth-crazy neighbor who walks her dog naked, I can recount a multitude of trashy memories pertaining to holiday cheer.

In the valley (as we common folk call it), we celebrate holidays with vigorous determination, as if each holiday might be our last. Every New Year’s Eve, we purchase bales of fireworks and load up the barrels in all the guns. At the stroke of midnight, everyone runs to take his or her stance to see whose gun will win all the glory in the biggest-best-loudest-longest competition. One year our family–with aid of others–concocted the biggest bang ever heard in this slumming land. With a long wide pipe stuffed with gunpowder and other various explosives, we launched a flaming-gasoline soaked log over our ten-foot bonfire, three miles into the swamp.

<>We didn’t have to invent the “Ugliest X-mas Sweater Party,” because that WAS our party. Eventually we decided to do away with Christmas all together and celebrate the wonderful traditions of Festivus. We replaced our Charlie Brown Christmas tree with a metal pole. It was decided that the Festivus feast would be a concoction of spam, eggs and ketchup, all of which you had to devour with no hands. There were the daylong feats of strength, the double-thumb wrestling competition, and the strongest crotch-punch competition (or as my sisters and I like to call it, “Vag Slam!”). So you can imagine with Valley Trash blood running through my veins, how excited I become at the chance of a holiday, any holiday.

Part II. V-Day Adventures

It is now, after spewing the secrets of our trashy celebrations that I must confess: Out of ALL the gun toting, adventure having, drunken-banter filled holidays, my favorite is V- Day. I know. I know. You’re thinking, WEAK. Out of all her choices, she chooses V-DAY!? What kind of fun can you have on V-day? Hell, what can you even do on V-day except one of two things, either hate the rest of the world who’s in love or spend too much money on the one you love.

Well, I’m here to set the facts straight.

First and most importantly: Rename your holidays, i.e. Christmas vs. Festivus, or in the case of V-Day, I prefer to refer to it as Vagina Day. It is the celebration of my vagina, your vagina, and all vaginas: in essence, V-Day is the Love of Vag day.

Secondly, holiday cheer is what you make it, so it is your job to make it. Don’t let yourself fall victim to the average holiday celebration; a turkey on Thanksgiving is average, egg salad during Easter is ho hum, and a BBQ ONLY during the summer holidays is lame. Get yourself out of the conservative box and have some fun with your holidays.

With these two things in mind I set out to plan some V-Day cheer and almost peed my pants when I read this ad:

The Stranger’s annual feel-good smash returns for the 10th and final time. Bring mementos of love gone wrong-wedding rings, ancient mix tapes, painful mash notes-and Dan Savage, our very own love and vengeance expert (mostly vengeance), will destroy them live onstage before a packed house. Maybe he’ll use a sledgehammer. Maybe he’ll use a blender. Maybe he’ll even fire up the blowtorch. Regardless, it will be hilarious.

It was the perfect way to spend Vag Day, a humorous evening with the love of my life, Dan Savage (who in all factuality prefers men over women, but that’s besides the point). With this plan, the beau (not Dan Savage) and I set off on a crazy Vag Day adventure. Now, I could recount every step we took and every little thing we saw, but you would be missing the bigger picture.

This article is not supposed to be about the guy I saw dragging a slab of beef around by the string tied to his waste like it was a pet. Nor is it supposed to be about the fact that we had to walk a million city blocks because we forgot to take notice of the E on 925 EAST. What you need to understand is that holidays are the best excuses to do something fun and crazy. They are the reasons we allow ourselves to participate in the utter gluttony that consumes our holiday cheer, which by the way is how I found myself wasted before noon on V-day from some excellent Mimosas.

In my opinion there are not enough holidays on the American calendar. I want to feel gleeful and gluttonous at least once a month. This past Wednesday was a glorious day, for the adventure, food, booze, cheer and oh of course!, the presents. How could I forget to mention the presents?

I sat down on V-Day morn’ and received a red heart-shaped metal tin from the real love of my life (again, not Dan Savage). Upon opening the tin, it looked like there were multiple layers of chocolate candies. Yet as I pulled back the second layer, what did I find? My very own .38 handgun, the best present a valley trash girl could ever receive (besides a guide on how to pee standing up). Now when I rejoin the Valley Trash clan on New Year’s, I’ll be toting my own bombastic magic.