Today is March 14, otherwise known as Steak and BJ Day. There is a Facebook page. I thought I might have dreamed this so I asked my neighbour if she had heard of it and her gag reflex came up:  “IT’S THE WORST DAY EVER!”  She is a vegetarian.

Legend has it that this day has come about to reciprocate all the men because Valentine’s Day is such a big brouhaha of diamonds and cunnilingus. As though it’s that hard to throw money at a day and perform the alphabet with your tongue.  Waaaay easier than a blow job, sir.  What a weird concept.  From a man’s perspective, I can’t help thinking that it must be one of those things that looks better than it actually is, like marzipan:  It’s icing! *takes bite* Oops, no, it’s shit.  Aren’t getting blow jobs a big lunch bag let down?  All that effort, slurping, gasping, dying, and don’t teeth get in the way?  These are not rhetorical questions, I really want to know.  Some women I know claim to be champions and yet get all tight-lipped when it comes to sharing techniques.  I guess it makes sense in this dog-eat-dog world of survival of the fittest.  If I was the Mighty Queen of Cabeza, I would probably keep it to myself and whoever holds the scepter.

As for making a special day of it, I have to say, I think it’s kind of sweet idea.  I picture all these Mad Men-type ladies planning this day down to the details, writing a shopping list in the morning and then heading out to the market where they buy canned creamed corn, string beans, and stuff to make a pineapple upside down cake.  Then off to the liquor mart for Canadian Rye (Don Draper’s drink…okay, let’s be clear, I’m having a “Me and Don Draper-specific” fantasy here), and wine for me to loosen up my super tight jaw muscles that I have gotten from grinding my teeth at night.  In real life, seriously, I grind so hard my jaw cracks when I pronounce a vowel.

Then I go to the butcher shop for the steak.  Now as you know, I like my real-life Danforth butcher shop but since I’m in fantasy mode and I’m channeling Donna Reed in a girdle and a puffy dress, I cannot be caught dead in there dressed like that, so it’s off to the Bronx I go.  The butcher is Marty, played by Ernest Borgnine.

Marty:  Why, hello, Mrs. Draper, what can I get for you this fine day?

Me: Good morning, Marty!  It is a beautiful day, isn’t it?  I’m looking for your finest cut of steak for Mr. Draper this evening.

Marty:  Oh, sure thing, Mrs. Draper.  Is there a special occasion?

Me: Of course, Marty, it’s Steak and BJ Day!  Didn’t you hear on the radio?

Marty:  Ooooh, right, I don’t pay much attention to these things, Mrs. Draper.  I’m not very popular with the ladies.

Me: Oh, that can’t be true, Marty, you’re a sweet man.  Surely any single girl would love to go out with you.

Marty:  I’ve never had a girlfriend in my entire life, Mrs. Draper, even the homely ones won’t give me the time of day.

Me: Don’t be silly, Marty, if I was a single gal, you’d be in big trouble, and call me Betty.

Marty:  Really…Betty?  Gee, that Mr. Draper sure is a lucky fella!

Betty: Well, he does work hard, Marty, and sometimes he doesn’t get home until very late at night.

Marty: You must get pretty lonely, Betty…

Betty:  Oh, Marty, I sure do!  I’m so lonely! What about you, Marty, you must be lonely too?

Marty:  I told you, Betty, the dames all look at me like I’m a big, ugly bug!

And that’s where the fantasy goes awry.  I feel sorry for Marty and I give him a mercy hummer in the back of my Cadillac, and Don calls later saying he’s staying in the city and of course I know he’s with that beatnik ho, Midge. So much for March 14.  But stay tuned for March 25 for Madmen Season 5.  THAT is something I will sink my teeth into, here are some snips.

FYI, in real life I’m having chicken tonight.

And here’s the trailer for Marty, so cute! I guess I would hit it, I do love a butcher after all: