Why I love sunflowers

First, they are nice looking flowers. But not too nice looking. Not like a rose that's all "hey, look, I'm so pretty, everyone thinks I'm the best flower, look how soft my petals are, look how red they are." And another thing, roses are psycho, they're worse than girls. Seriously they're like "Aw, look how beautiful I am, but BACK-OFF BUDDY!! I'll cut you! I'll cut you!" and whip out the thorns lightning fast. You never see it coming. I mean really, haven't you had a girlfriend like that, she's all "Oh, look how good I look in this dress WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'S 'JustO.K.'?!? I''m gonna kick your ass!" And man, we just don't see it coming. And if we do see it coming well, it's too late, we're already dating her, and it's tough to break it off with a girl who keeps a knife under her pillow just in case there's a nocturnal intruder, (which also makes it difficult to spend the night, but that's another story about another scar). Because when you bring her the flowers to apologize for not liking the dress that actually didn't look that great on her and you were only trying to do her a favor by not letting her wear it out in public, and she bought it anyway and now you do your best when you go out to avoid eye contact with other guys who probably understand your situation and sympathize with you, and the damn flowers stuck you like a pig. So now nevermind the girl in the ugly dress chasing you down the hall with a knife stepping on your apology roses all the way, but you're also bleeding on your new tie and white shirt, and ok I guess blood will come out if you get it into the wash in time, but you can't go out like this, even alone, since you won't be going with her, you know from experience when she gets like this she needs "alone time," no bar around here is going to let you in bleeding on your clothes. So that's another trip home, to change and another trip back in on the T, probably the Green line and man I hope I don't get stuck on the T with that stupid driver who uses the speaker to practice his substandard stand-up routine on his captive audience while riding the tracks beneath the city because I hate that guy, I'd rather just ride the T in peace and he's not even that funny, and even if he were that funny he's still got a lot to think about timing wise, like don't tell the same joke every other stop, you're just recycling the joke to the same people until you get into Park Street, which is where everyone gets off and you pick up a whole new batch of passengers who haven't heard the jokes already, so there you go, you're set to repeat your whole set. But if I don't get that guy, then I'm probably going to bring my iPod but then I'd need to change coats so I have a pocket I can carry it in, and if I change coats I'll have to change shirts too, because plaid on plaid just won't work, and man that knife wound is starting to sting, but at least I don't have to get a haircut now. Oh yeah, tomorrow might be her birthday...maybe I'll get her some roses. I'll do that after I drop this bloodied suit off at the dry cleaners. And that is why I love sunflowers.