It’s probably true. You couldn’t make these things up.

P: Left inside main try almost needs replacement. S: Almost replaced left inside main try.

P: Test flight OK, except autoload very rough. S: Autoland not installed on this aircraft.

P: No. 2 propeller seeping prop fluid. S: No 2 propeller seepage normal. Nos. 1, 3 & 4 propellers lack normal seepage.

P: Something loose in cockpit. S: Something tightened in cockpit.

P: Dead bugs on windshield. S: live bugs on backorder.

P: Autopilot in altitude hold mode produces a 200-fpm descent. S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground.

P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear. S: Evidence removed.

P: DME volume unbelievably loud. S: DME volume set to more believable level.

P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick. S: That’s what they’re there for!

P: OFF inoperative. S: OFF always inoperative in OFF mode.

P: Suspected crack in windscreen. S: Suspect you’re right.

P: Number 3 engine missing. S: Engine found on right wing after brief search. [The pilot meant engine ‘misfiring’.]

P: Aircrafts handles funny. S: Aircraft warned to straighten up, fly right, and be serious.

P: Radar hums. S: Reprogrammed radar with words.

P: Mouse in cockpit. S: Cat installed.

The only problem is that I (like many men) don't have a romantic bone in my body. Not one. My sense of romance, if it was ever there to begin with, has withered and died along with my youthful ideals, dreams of six-pack abs, and my long-range jump shot.

This poses a very big challenge for me since my wife has a keenly developed sense of romance. Like a blind person who has a tremendous sense of hearing and smell, my wife, who has been forced to live in a romantic vacuum, can sense romance in everything. She points out beautiful sunsets and old people staring into each other's eyes. Sappy birthday cards make her cry. She wants to hold hands with me while walking in mall. It's sickening.

But, because I love her (and I'm afraid of repercussions), I have to try and pull a decent Valentine's Day present out of my backside. So this year, I've decided to use awesome power of spam email to help me narrow my search. After spending several anxious seconds combing through my Deleted box in email, I plucked some candidates out for this year's Valentine.

American Blinds, Wallpaper, and More: Nothing says "I love you" like a nice set of vertical blinds. Or perhaps that crazy fruit print wallpaper that my wife had on her kitchen walls back in 70s. In perhaps weakest marketing move in recent memory, American Blinds, Wallpaper, and More is pitching their products as Valentine's Day gifts. For those of you desperate enough to consider this, I can suggest a few good divorce attorneys, or perhaps a good motel for night.