Happy Valentines Day, Internet

It’s February 14. That means it’s Valentines Day.* A holiday both adored and reviled by the young and old alike. Some people loathe it, other people ignore it, and some people embrace it.
*I spell it this way on purpose, guys. It’s not Saint Valentine’s Day anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time. It’s a day to celebrate Valentines. Ergo, Valentines Day.  


I clearly put lots of effort into making my Valentine for you. You are _welcome._

I’m one of the embracers, guys. And I’m not ashamed of it. But I don’t embrace it because I think I’m somehow owed flowers and tokens of love today because I just so happen to be female.** I think people lose their minds around this time of year – the same way people lose their minds on Black Friday and spend a whole day trampling each other in stores instead of spending a post-feast day relaxing with their families.
**How is that fair, anyway? How did Valentines Day turn into some affection-test for guys? Who was in charge of that nonsense? Can’t we just relax, people? Why does this aside involve so many questions?

I like to present a front that I have no time for love anymore in my life. I’m an independent woman, after all, single and in my 20s. TV tells me I should be a champion of everything.

'cause the face is busy being bitter...

I’m also a child who grew up in the 90s. I’m super good at “talk to the hand.”

That’s not really the real me, though. I come from a home that has always been full of love. My parents loved me and my brother endlessly, and never skimped on affection. They also love each other – a fact that I’ve never had to question, ever. They’re loving and affectionate and sometimes they even flirt. Frequently, there is cuddling.***
***All of this is, of course, accompanied by obligatory “ew, you made me, stop that, gross, parents” faces from me.****
****You’re welcome, Mom and Dad.

So despite pretending to be a cold-hearted monster without concern for love, what I really am in someone who wants to find the perfect partner. I want, in the longterm, the kind of relationship I see in my parents. Ew-faces aside, I’m a pretty lucky girl to have grown up in a household like that.

This is what REALLY causes heart attacks

Which coincidentally resulted in me actually being a lot more like this.

This has led to some issues along the way. I’m not exactly talented when it comes to picking romantic partners. This tendency has further fostered my posturing as a coldhearted, aloof girl, destined for a future full of cats.

But the point remains: I firmly believe in love. And I believe in Valentines Day. Not because it’s a test of someone’s love for you – and how well they can show it on demand – but because it’s a great time to do something that makes you happy.

Frequently, I am single on Valentines Day. That tendency is actually what drove me to embrace it.

Last year, with the help of a fellow single friend – who we shall call The Hero of the South (THotS, which is pronounced “Thhhhh-oates” as of this very moment) – Valentines Day was celebrated with style. We dressed up. We high-fived. We got drinks.

I am so giving today

Hi THotS. You know who you are. And you know you were never going to get a vote in your blog-name. _You’re welcome._

Most importantly, we went out for ribs.

Ribs. RIBS. Delicious ribs.

That lady is a waitress. I think she was scared of us.

Most people can’t bring themselves to go out for ribs on a romantic holiday, because…well…it is not attractive to eat ribs. They were delicious.

Other single Valentines Days have been celebrated with fellow single friends and movie nights – not in self-pity because we’re single, but because we’re at the same stage of life. Sometimes it’s refreshing to be surrounded by people who are sharing your current life goals, problems and, well, lack of couple-related responsibilities.

Before my pride was so barren of single friends

There is always popcorn. It is a rule.

This year, I have a date. I’m celebrating Valentines Day romantically, it’s true.


Guess what we’re doing? Go on. Guess.

But no matter what, it’s still kind of an awesome holiday, if you let it be. Couples get to be coupley. Single people can throw parties. Married people can set aside some time to go out on a real date.

If we all just stop being bitter and thinking this holiday is all about showing off.

So, Happy Valentines Day, Internet. I’m really glad we’re in each other’s lives.

Totally true

Because ours is a truly true love.

It’s Christmas and You Should be Drinking Breakfast Egg Nog Instead of Reading This

Or, you know, hanging out with family and sharing love and joy and all. Whatever floats your boat.

But since you’re here anyway, you diligent blog-checker you, I will reward you with a picture of me in my Christmas jammies:

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtlres!

Happy Holidays, Internet. It’s not even a selfie. It’s just a really dumb-looking picture of me JUST FOR YOU.
And yes, those are Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Jammies. Because my family loves me.

Now go away and love your family. Even if you don’t celebrate Christmas, today is a super good day for hugs and morning booze.

Merry Christmas, y’all. I’ll be in the present fort.


This is my present fort. Go away.

Happy Holi-oh, Crap. I’m Already Late

I’m very busy and important*, so I simply do not have time to be amusing** today.

*Running late to Christmas Eve lunch at my Grandma’s house. 
**Am totally having a holiday-induced panic attack.

So here is a picture of a very sad box.***


Produce Box is really sad to meet you.
Produce Box is kind of a jerk.

***Dramatic shadows included, FREE! You’re welcome.

I get my produce**** magically delivered to me. And I recently discovered that this box is very, very sad. All the time. Because I have anthropomorphic personification problems.

****Fancy bread and locally made sugar products. But it comes in a produce box, so it’s healthy, right?

Merry Christmas Eve, y’all. I hope all your holiday boxes are glad to make your acquaintance.

There Isn’t Enough Suffering in Christmas This Year

So. it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. And I’m finally ok with that. Because now it’s actually December.*

*And all Americans, no matter what religion or creed they are, know that Christmas – and it’s more politically correct counterpart, ChristmaHannaKwanzikah – lasts for the entire month of December until the dawn of New Year’s Eve.

I understand that Thanksgiving came late this year. That’s hard on the wild world of commerce, I know. There’s less time for massive holiday profits. Which is really what American holidays are all about.**

**I’m not criticizing. I totally love getting stuff. I am a true American.

But that’s no excuse for having decorated for Christmas before Halloween.

Santa is supposed to be building toys on Halloween

I went to the mall on Halloween. In my costume. And this is what greeted me.
This is taking the Nightmare Before Christmas a little too far, guys.

Halloween is sacred to the youth of American. And Thanksgiving is a sacred, essential part of easing us all into overly crowded, stressful family gatherings in the name of love.*** So it’s pretty uncouth to skip right over those holidays and jam holly and mistletoe down our throats before the line of December is crossed.

***Don’t worry my family. I’m definitely not talking about us. We are, of course, special, and all love each other in a drama-free way. Definitely. Our family gatherings are the ideal model for Thomas Kincade paintings.

Bruce Campbell wasn't there

In case anyone was wondering, we celebrated Thanksgiving in the refurbished Evil Dead cabin.

But now it is finally December. The time for the crisp scent of Christmas-tree pine, and stressful holiday shopping in overcrowded stores. It’s a time for merry, multi-colored lights and egg nog****  In short, we have finally hit the holiday season, and I’m a hundred percent behind it.

****Or soy nog, for those of us with a stubborn hippy streak. Or lactose intolerance. Bonus!., if you’re a drinker of soy nog, NO ONE ever steals your glass. 

But lets get down to the true meaning of Christmas: The tree.

Christmas is not Christmas without a murdered tree shedding impossible-to-vacuum needles all over your carpet. Christmas is not Christmas without trekking out into the snow to sort through hundreds of trees to pick exactly the right one. Christmas is not Christmas without men swearing under their breath as they tie the tree to their cars, scratching the roof, while women try to entertain sticky children who are fighting in the parking lot.

We all know this to be true.

But I still helped decorate my parents’ totally fake tree yesterday.

Thousands and thousands of spider eggs

Seriously. Ever since that one time I picked a tree full of spider eggs, I don’t get a vote anymore.

The above image is pre-decorations, but I’m totally proud of my garland stringing skills.

I want to be mad about the plastic and the pre-packaged lights. But I have to be honest: This tree went up in less than 20 minutes, I didn’t have to untangle a single light, and absolutely zero spider babies tried to eat me. Also, no vacuuming was involved.

Convenience is taking the suffering out of Christmas, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.