As I lay awake last night fuming and generally being crabby, I realized two things that made light bulbs go off above my head (which made it that much more difficult to fall asleep):

a) It’s all fine and good to play the “I hate Valentine’s Day because I don’t want to be told when I have to be romantic” card, but your righteous indignation loses most of it’s mustard when you don’t exactly have a distinguished record of spontaneous romance under your belt. Sure, use your outrage as an excuse to not play the Hallmark game – but at least back your statement up with alternates. If you’re not one for impulsive flirty romance – no matter how many times you’re told it would mean a lot – then maybe you shouldn’t scoff at a forced celebration of love. Valentine’s Day is in place exactly because of people like you. If you won’t do all those sappy silly fairy tale romance bullshit activities because you’re “supposed” to, but you won’t do it because you’ve been flat-out asked to, and you won’t do it for no reason at all, and you won’t do it in reciprocate, but you won’t do it if it’s expected of you – well, don’t get upset when I laugh myself to tears when you ask for your steak and blow job a month later.

b) I now know exactly why my mother bought herself so many presents when I was growing up.

Another Friday night, another concert. This time it’s Tegan and Sara, whom I’ve loved since 2001 or so but have never seen live. Should be a really good time. Here’s hoping I won’t have to punch anyone on my way out.

you say it’s not what you do
it’s what you’re thinking of
well i think it’s just an excuse
it’s what you put across

coz i don’t wanna be the one
only overjoyed
i don’t wanna be the one
making all the noise
yeah i don’t wanna be the one