exciting and new . . . and stressful! With St. Valentine’s
Day right around the corner, a great many of you might find
yourselves scrambling to do some last-minute shopping for
that special someone in your life. Lord knows, there’s only
one more commerce-driven holiday on the Roman calendar, and
thankfully, we don’t have to worry about that one for another
nine months or so. (Only 326 shopping days left, by the way!)
can you do for your preferred him or her that won’t say “I
picked these up on the way home from work” or “All they had
were Mother’s Day cards”? We posed a simple question (“What
do you want for Valentine’s Day?”) to a wide swath of local
celebrities and public figures, and their answers may shock
and surprise you. At the very least, you’ll know what to do
if you happen to be married to or dating one of them.
Java” bath bomb from usa.lush.com. It’s a combination of ginger,
cinnamon and juniper berry oils which co-mingle to make bathing
extra special (and if you’re lucky) maybe extra sensual. And
a handwritten card that precisely (and in great detail) outlines
why my husband will love me even though I constantly remind
him which lane to be in, how fast to drive and when to exit.
dinner at Shalimar followed by a slow walk in Washington Park.
Why not give a brother flowers? We like them too!
Writer and Critic
princess-cut diamond ring from my boyfriend.
like a gift certificate to a B&B in Schenectady.
an overnight stay at the Union Street Bed & Breakfast
is out of the question, I will settle for $15 million from
a long-lost uncle to complete our reconstruction plans for
and member of Veterans for Peace
love poems, more love poems, a mail sack full of love poems,
and all the poets who wrote them to be reading them, personally,
to me, as I sip champagne, eat chocolate and sniff roses.
who’s not insane . . . and that hopefully likes poetry.
my number one desire would be a foot rub. A really long foot
rub . . . with lotion and soft lights and that whole “worship
me like I’m a goddess” thing.
office supplies. Robotic killer manatees as my minions. Whatnot—so
much whatnot. Hand-written lewd candy hearts. The band Heart,
probably. Ya know, run of the mill romantic stuff—I’m easy
President and Editor, The Times Union
to a redhead, you know, so my wishes match the sentiments
of an old song: “Let there be peace on earth, and let it begin
with me.” P.S.: Happily married, I should note!
Blogger on Albany Politics
of snow, a flask of hot spiced cider and rum, two tubes/sleds,
and a free afternoon for some sledding in the park with my
significant other. And perhaps McGuire’s could send over some
takeout for a post sledding meal.
single, I’d have to say . . . a blow-up doll that knows how
velvet corset trimmed with diamonds direct from Paris, hazelnut
gelato flown in fresh from Rome, and sushi from Saso’s Noodle
House served on Fernando Falcone’s backside (and that sushi
better include the spicy tuna, albacore, and Chris roll).
of Communications, Institute for Humanist Studies.
Bill O’Reilly and other conservative talk show hosts to accuse
secular humanists of taking the “Saint” out of “St. Valentine’s
like for everyone to wake up and appreciate poetry . . . even
if it is for just one day. That one day could make all the
President, Albany Poets; Massage Therapist
Day I would like to see my feet. I am seven months pregnant.
Hector on Stilts
box of chocolates. I think your readers would be relieved
to know that although I am often seen stepping in and out
of a limo, I have inexpensive taste.
to have a girl cook a nice meal for me. I like fresh ingredients,
but even if it has to come from a bag or a mix; I’m cool with
that. Burning the food can be cute; undercooking it makes
me think you want me dead.
scarlet east studios; musician, the clay people
I would like most for Valentine’s Day is a woman whose sultry
charms could lure me away from my studio for a night and cook
me a nice dinner. Some sort of pasta dish with a sherry cream
sauce would be nice. Hell, I’ll cook the damn dinner. I don’t
remember the last time I spent a night outside the studio
for something not music-related. . . . I am also quite fond
the clay people
like a magic lamp from which to conjure a sexy djinni who
will grant me three wishes.
The Clay People, Idols never die
of Sex Panther, by Odeon.