The day after the night when I realized I had already fallen in love

Everyday is a Holiday:

I was dispirited upon first seeing the title to this song, thinking that I was seeing yet another example of the systematic and merciless rape of my cherished English language. I addressed the query, "I do believe you mean 'every day,' do you not?" to no one in particular as my high horse galloped towards the horizon. I cut quite the majestic figure, I might add, perched high atop the aforementioned horse, silhouetted against the setting sun.

Later on, though, I was abandoned by my metaphor and left to my own devices, crawling around on all fours amongst the hoi polloi, who stood tall over me, my nose at the level of their asses. Through the stench of musty butt-cracks, I caught the foul odor of my own misplaced indignation, and like a hobo to a sill pie, I wafted over to the realization that maybe, just maybe, Ms. Esthero really did mean to say 'everyday.' Perhaps she just means that the commonplace seems extraordinary because of all of this life affirming love she has for the person this song is about... Makes you think... Certainly made me think, and through the power of thinking, that foul odor was transformed into a fresh fragrance: the fresh fragrance of doubt benefiting.

And so it goes, you know. Sometimes it things have to change with you before you can see how great things are for you. And it is all about you: the second person: You. And by you, of course, I mean me: the first person: Me. And speaking of me, a prime example of that whole 'things changing things to great' thing is that one time, last night, when I fell in love. Well, I suppose 'I fell in love' is a bit hyperbolic... A more apt statement might be to say that I realized I was in love, because, let us, you and I, face it: falling in love isn't something you do, it is something you suddenly recognize to have already happened. It's all in the phrase, really: "Falling in love." I shouldn't have to explain it.

But back to the point... Well, let's put it this way: Pitfall Harry thought he had a healthy appreciation for the vine he swung on, but when the ground opened up beneath him, he suddenly realized that he loved the shit out of that vine, and that the last thing in the world that he ever wanted to happen was to lose his connection to it. It's like that, man. It is where metaphors reconnect with the men they had abandoned and the women who had abandoned them. It is the epitome of the miracle of modern man, the unbroken and eternal lineage stretching from Adam to Azimuth, and it is beautiful.