April 4, 2014

Meet Prometheus!

Oh, hi, internet!


            Sooooo, I have a new baby.

            And he’s beautiful beyond beautiful.

            And he’s rather difficult to take pictures of because he moves around a lot.

            Squee!

            Prometheus is a four year old ivory ball python, and a stunning one at that. After a bit of socialization and “training” (I use the term loosely because you can’t really train a snake, more acclimate them to certain situations), he’s going to be my dance partner for live performances. I can’t wait!

            Paradise Lost is a longtime obsession of mine, specifically the character Lucifer. William Blake wrote, “The reason Milton wrote in fetters when he wrote of Angels & God, and at liberty when of Devils & Hell, is because he was a true poet, and of the Devil's party without knowing it.” Anyone who’s read Paradise Lost will tell you that Lucifer is by far the most fleshed out, complex, and compelling character in the entire poem. He shows intellect, self-awareness, and immense personality; far from the two-dimensional paragon of pure evil you would expect. The character Lucifer is the main reason I love Paradise Lost. Though he was driven by envy and spite (brought on by his own self-loathing and mourning for his home), his tempting of Eve to eat from the Tree of Knowledge freed mankind from living in ignorance. Adam and Eve knew pain, shame, and hunger, yes, but they also had true free will for the first time, intellectual ability, and the freedom to make their own choices. They learned to eat from the land, raise a family, live a human life. Oh, and let’s not forget they also gained sexual pleasure. Um, thank you, Lucifer!

            I always found Milton’s overarching theme…aka, Christianity’s stance…on the Adam and Eve story confusing. God and the angels very blatantly state to Adam and Eve that ignorance is bliss, that to follow a tyrant blindly without question (faith) is what is “good.” I’m sorry, but I, like Lucifer in this story, just don’t buy that. Blind faith is nothing but ignorance. It is not something to be admired. You haven’t made an educated decision to devote your life to something if you have nothing but blind faith and fear of reprimand binding you to that decision. And to me, an uneducated devotion is not true devotion. To question, search for answers, come to your own conclusions after rumination and research, those are virtues. Then I would call you devoted to something. You’d have made the conscious, educated choice, rather than simply following how you were raised or what you were told.

            For years, I have been fascinated by the idea of Lucifer as a Promethean figure. In Greek mythology, Prometheus was a titan who took pity on man. Zeus, king of the gods, kept mankind in complete ignorance, in order to better worship him. Prometheus brought fire to mankind, defying Zeus and the other gods, teaching us vital skills like agriculture and paving the way for civilization. Zeus punished mankind by sending them Pandora and her box of disease, aging, and chaos. He punished Prometheus by chaining him to a rock and sending an eagle to eat his liver each day, which would grow back in the night.

            The stories of Lucifer and Prometheus have many similarities. They are, in all likelihood, the same tale, like Jesus is a rehashing of the archetypal hero story. Prometheus, however, is hailed as a hero, a champion of mankind, a romantic figure whose tragedy we are meant to mourn. Lucifer, on the other end of the spectrum, is cast as an antagonist. There is a lot of debate as to why that is (I think a good deal of it has to do with the fact that ancient Greeks weren’t afraid of their gods being fallible, which they very much were), but the parts they played for mankind in their stories were largely the same. If I were Eve in Paradise Lost, I’d have thanked Lucifer for the gift he had given me, for delivering me from a life of ignorance and servitude. In my life, I question everything, look for my own answers, find my own way. I would never give my heart, mind, or any other part of me to someone blindly, and I don’t believe anyone should.

            Wow…this became a literary nerdrant. My bad. What I’m really trying to say is this: I named my snake Prometheus because I absolutely adore the idea of Lucifer as a Promethean figure and what that stands for. I do, however, hate the name Lucifer for a snake. It is overdone, unoriginal, and gives people the wrong idea. I was raised on Greek mythology, and Prometheus is one of my favourite stories. Also, I’m a huge fan of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, which was originally titled Frankenstein; Or; The Modern Prometheus due to its Promethean themes and ties to Paradise Lost. Snake = Lucifer = Prometheus = Happy Dee.

            And now, to reward you for reading this ridiculousness, here are some very crappy but best attempts at pictures of my sweet creature.

            For those of you who just scrolled to the pictures without reading the rant, I love you anyway. ;)


 
Here he is in my lap, trying to
give people a good size
gauge.

Fun fact: There's part of a quote
from Paradise Lost visible
on the wall behind me.


He's around 1250 grams. Not sure
how big that is in length.



In his spooky night light.

Be still, my heart.






Also, just saying, think the snake got screwed over by God, too. I mean, come on, Lucifer possessed him against his will, and God punished him. The fuck, dude? 

March 20, 2014

Pets are Awesome: Random Pics

     Today, I’m home sick, voiceless, coughing, and all but injecting tea between my toes to recover. As I sit in front of my laptop huddled up in a blanket, Stella Crüe, my crazy naked rat dog, is curled up on a pillow inches away, snoring surprisingly loudly for such a little creature. Every now and then, my cats Luka and Rufio will do a sweep of the living room, nuzzling my ankles before going about their daily feline activities.

            I really can’t imagine life without pets in it. I’ve been an animal person all my life, and their companionship is essential to my wellbeing. I have many friends who aren’t “pet people,” and I don’t mean this in a judgmental way, but I don’t get it. The “issues” with having animals that are so often sited are so infinitesimal to me compared to the happiness that they bring to a home. For some people, scooping a litter box and going outside for a walk a couple of times today is apparently the kiss of death, but for me, it’s totally worth it. Luka, Stella, and Rufio are perfect companions, extremely entertaining, and their affection has kept me afloat during extremely difficult periods of my life. I couldn’t thrive without them.

            So because I’m sick and drowsy and unable to rant, here are a bunch of pics of my three darlings, plus one bonus picture of my future darling, an ivory ball python I just purchased to perform with me. I don’t have a name for him yet, and he won’t be able to ship over from Massachusetts until the weather warms up, but I’m so excited to have a snake again, and I can’t wait until he joins the family!


            Love you all.  Off I go for yet another cup of tea. Pity me!

Meet my unnamed futuresnake!


Luka on her first day home in 2009.

                                  

We are not impressed.

Cuddle time.

Puppy Stella in mid leap.

Don't kiss a largely white cat while
wearing red lipstick.

Dogs can smile!

I never sleep alone.

If you need a laugh, a Chinese Crested
is your dog. They are hilarious
without intending to be.



This picture is years old, but I still
can't ever read without feline interruption.

Badass.


My favourite family portrait.


Rufio didn't understand that the Boyfriend
was on the floor because he was incredibly drunk.


Mood shot.



"...why?"


Rufio with a stain of dye between his eyes
because he couldn't keep away while I
dyed my hair.


From yesterday, when the cold plague
began. Stella is a constant companion
when I'm sick.

March 7, 2014

Deelicious Recipes: La-la-la-Lasagna!

This is a kraftrecipes.com image, but
lasagna's lasagna.

Soooo I can't think of anything to rant about (for once), and a friend of mine requested this recipe from me, so, viola! Lasagna! A staple recipe of any dago's kitchen. 

Don't be intimidated by the amount of ingredients in this recipe. It takes a bit of prep, but it's easy to make, and it's tasty as hell.

By the way, I use Hunts for all of my canned tomato products. You don't have to, it's just my preference.

Dee's Lasagna

1 box lasagna noodles
1 lb Italian sausage (sweet or spicy, it's up to you)
1 lb ground beef
1 big can crushed tomatoes (26 or 28 oz, I can't remember. A big can!)
2 (6 or 7 oz) cans tomato sauce
2 (6 or 7 oz) cans tomato paste

1/2 chopped sweet onion
1/2 cup water
Sprinkling of sugar (I know, no measurements, I'm sorry! Just enough to cut the acidity of the sauce...uh....maybe a Tablespoon.)
Garlic! (I know, I know!...maybe like 1 or 2 teaspoons.)
Four or so leaves ripped up fresh basil (or around 2 tsps dried basil)
1 tsp oregano
1/2-1 tsp fennel seeds (they're delicious!)
Slightly more than a pinch of Salt (bite me, dammit, just taste as you go.)
Pepper to taste (I use white pepper)

16 oz ricotta cheese
1 egg
1 lb mozzarella cheese (I use deli slices, SO easy to layer)
1 cup parmesan/romano cheese

-In a VERY large pot, cook onion, garlic, sausage, and ground beef until browned. Add crushed tomatoes/paste/sauce, water, sugar, and spices. Simmer for a couple of hours. Be sure to stir and taste frequently.

-Make lasagna noodles. Please don't tell me you don't know how to make noodles. You'll make me cry.

-Add egg to ricotta cheese in mixing bowl with a teensy bit of salt. I also like to put in a bit of oregano.

-Heat oven to 375 F.

-TIME TO ASSEMBLE! In a baking dish, I believe 9x13 inch, spread a thin layer of the meat sauce along the bottom. The layers go like this:
         Noodles (enough to cover the layer of meat sauce on the bottom)
         Ricotta cheese
         Mozzarella cheese slices
         Meat Sauce
         Parmesan Romano cheese
         Repeat!

-Cover with foil, putting space between the foil and the cheese layer (it'll stick if it touches) and bake for 20-25 minutes.

Remove from oven, nom intensively.

This lasagna can feed a small army, so I recommend using this recipe for company. It's not exactly a one person dish.




February 27, 2014

My Tits are Terrifying!

OH MY GOD, RUN!!

All right, this is going to be one of those disorganized rant posts. I’ll try not to repeat myself too much, and I will limit my ellipses…

…dammit, I love these things…


Okay, okay, I’m stalling. I’m stalling because I’m worried about this post. I don’t want it to come across as whiny. I guess we’ll just see how it goes.

Anyway, story time! I recently went through another one of my crafty phases, and I started making body chains. Apparently I have a knack for them! It’s become a bit of an obsession. Beads and pendants are surprisingly expensive, so I’ve taken to cannibalizing old jewelry and making some unique pieces. I’m actually thinking about maybe opening an Etsy shop once I get a little better with the technique.

Adesso, as the crazy kids of my generation are wont to do, I have been discussing these body chains on my Facebook. I made an album and posted pictures. And this is where the trouble started.

Here are some of the pictures I posted on my Facebook album:




I'm particularly proud of this chain.


Roughly 99.9% of my darlings were supportive and enthusiastic about my new projects. A great deal of them also complimented me on my figure, maybe cracked a few jokes. It was all good, and I got a nice ego boost, both creatively and physically, from friends and family.

However, there was a small but vocal pocket of people who voiced their, let’s say, “concerns.” I got texts and messages from these guys saying things like:

“Why are you posting naked pics of yourself?”
“Cover up/wear a top!”
“No one’s looking at the jewelry and you know it.”
“You should really think about the things you put on the internet.”
“Don’t you know what people think of you when you post pics like that?”

I'm no Venus, but seriously.
I wasn’t terribly shocked by this response, but it still infuriates me. It really does. I try to focus on the positives, but these little “concerns” really get under my skin. Without getting too preachy (hopefully), I have a few points to make.

First, in defense of myself: I have never cared if someone doesn’t like me because of something I was (or wasn’t) wearing. I’ve always worn what I want when I want to, and the vast majority of people in my life are well aware of that. They may occasionally break my balls for going to a bar in a low cut top, but they don’t criticize or condemn me.

I hear the arguments from well-meaning people now, “Well, Dee, your friends don’t judge you, but they know you. What about the strangers at the club who just see a chick in fishnets and booty shorts dancing around? They don’t know you. They’re going to think you’re trashy.”

There’s a simple answer to this: I don’t give a fuck what those strangers think. Fuck ‘em.

Wow, how easy was that?

Seriously. If you’re someone who judges other people by what they’re wearing, who won’t even bother talking to someone because you think they’re too scantily clad, then you’re not a person I want to get to know. So go on rolling your eyes at this little half naked bitch. I couldn’t care less.

But this is just me defending myself in a pissy manner. I’m actually more annoyed by what’s at work in the minds of friends and family who are so very concerned with the fact that my body is on display.

I have body image issues. Most women do. I know where mine come from, and a part of it has to do with how we were raised. I’m not talking about my parents here so much as my school environment. From the minute we hit double digit numbers in age, my hometown school (like most schools, I’m pretty sure) started restricting what we wore. I can’t speak for what the boys weren’t allowed to wear, but I remember the girls’ “rules” all too clearly: Our shorts and skirts couldn’t be shorter than where our fingertips hit our legs when we had our arms at our sides (which sucked because I have these crazy long monkey arms. Everything of mine had to be practically knee length.) We weren’t allowed to wear spaghetti strap tops, and sleeveless was also forbidden if teachers decided the straps were “too thin.” Once we had breasts, you weren’t allowed to see a speck of them. You could get away with lower cut tops of you were flatter chested, but if you had any cleavage, you were in trouble.



I disagree with every bit of this. My reasons are best illustrated in an incident that occurred recently, and if you’re interested, you can read it here. I think telling kids to cover up their bodies insinuates that there’s something wrong with them, that the human body is shameful or disgusting. I won’t hop on a soapbox here, because I haven’t done the proper research, but I see a strong correlation/possible causation between restricting young girls’ bodies and the horrible body image(s? Aiutami, grammar gods!) women collectively have in this country. And if they don’t have a bad body image, they’d better not admit it, or they’ll look like a conceited bitch.

But my biggest issue with people giving me shit over these revealing pictures, and how I dress and dance and even behave with my friends, is the overwhelming message I hear in their criticisms: Sexy is bad.

Hey, little bitch. Did you know that FUCK YOU?


If you want to be sexy, you’re shallow. You’re trashy. You’re easy. And if you’re easy, you don’t deserve respect. And from feminists? If you want to be sexy, you’ve been brainwashed by the patriarchal society we live in, subconsciously forcing you to bare your breasts and shave your legs and wear high heels. If you’re the least bit proud of how men see your body, you’re a feminism failure.

Give me a fucking break.

Look, the bottom line is this: I don’t see sexy as shameful. I don’t see it as shallow. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be sexy. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying compliments about your figure. I enjoy (some of) the attention I get. I hesitated writing that, and I’m mad at myself for it. Fuck it. Of course I enjoy attention. We all do*. Why the fuck are we ashamed of it? When we think we look good, we like others to think so, too. That’s why we get dressed up when we go out. That’s why Instagram exists.

I think everyone should be able to wear what they want, take whatever kind of pictures they want, without people telling them that they’re being trashy or giving the wrong impression to other people. I mean, I had people flip out about that picture of me with the white scarf thing over my chest, but not me in a bikini top. Seriously? What is so scary about seeing my chest without that little string of fabric cutting across it? That’s the only difference! Pictures where I don’t have a bra or a bikini top or something that breaks up my mid line are the ones that people freak about the most, even if I’m more covered up in them than in others. I know, this is stepping into rant territory, but I seriously don’t get it.

Be sexy if you want.
Side note, this unphotoshopped movement is awesome.


All right, ending this train wreck of a post. Lessons to take home:

1. The human body is not scary or disgusting, and constantly telling someone who isn’t flashing people on the subway to cover up is obnoxious and, in my opinion, hurtful.

2. It’s okay to want to be sexy. So be sexy.

3. Body chains are awesome, and you should buy them from me when I start selling them.

Ah, wink.














*This should go without saying, but I’m positive it’ll bite me in the ass if I don’t say this: Attention and harassment are two totally different things. So don’t tell a woman she’s asking for trouble when she wears revealing clothing. Grow the fuck up.

February 20, 2014

Lent and The Oscars!




Oh, hi, internet!

I have a couple of things to rant about. First, this year I decided to watch all nine of the films nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars so I will be better informed for the show. Secondly, in a few short weeks, the season of Lent will be upon us! Oh, noes!

For those who don’t know, I’ve participated in Lent every year since high school. I usually give up sweets, junk food, or both. This year I’m doing both again. I don’t do Lent for religious reasons, obviously. I do it because:

1.     My diet this time of year is always terrible, for some reason. Example: earlier this week, I inhaled an entire bag of frosted animal cookies by myself.

Worth it.


2.     I think exercises in self-discipline are important.

3.     Religious affiliates of mine consistently fail, and I thoroughly enjoy being the little heretic who beats the self-righteous devout at their own game.


I’m not too proud of the last one, but hey, I’m an honest bitch. Anyway, Lent is always extremely challenging. I go through a mini version of withdrawal and spend 40 days trying to regulate my depleted endorphins (God help The Boyfriend.) But despite the agony each year, it is totally worth it.

And now to the Oscars! I watched them last year despite having seen none of the movies up for nomination. It was still fun to watch, but this year I wanted to be informed As of this post, I’ve watched six nominations with three to go. Some of the movies I’ve seen are amazing. Others make me wonder how the hell they got a nomination at all.

Heads up for spoilers, but here’s what I think of the films I’ve seen so far:

Captain Phillips



      I honestly think Captain Phillips is in the running for Best Picture because Tom Hanks has some kind of mafia hold on the Oscars which forces them to nominate any movie he happens to be in that year. There was nothing particularly special or “Oscary” about it.  Barkhad Abdi’s performance was fantastic, but other than that, it was a pretty basic hostage movie with some not-so-subtle military FUCK yeah, ‘Merica! undertones happening. I don’t know. I’ve never been a huge Tom Hanks fan. His method of acting just seems to be “Tom Hanks + an obviously fake accent.” I admired his performance at the very end, when he was in shock, but overall, my reaction to the film as a whole was “meh.”

Her


      Her was actually a surprisingly excellent film. I went into it with a lot of preconceived notions about how it was going to turn out, and for the most part, it really veered off the beaten path. I think what I liked most about it was how casually the relationship between Theodore and Samantha was received by the vast majority of the characters. Samantha’s operating system was a brand new technology at the start of the film, so the world was learning about it together, in real time with the movie. Theodore and Samantha weren’t the only human-computer relationship that occurred; it happened on a global scale. Some characters we saw were fine with it, others criticized it, but it was never a huge controversy. The focus of the film wasn’t an ethical commentary. It was about the relationship. And overall, it was beautiful. I really connected with these characters. The ending is hard hitting, and I’m not really sure how I feel about it. On one hand, it was slowly built up through the movie and I enjoy well-established plot payoffs, but on the other hand, it reeked of a My work here is done-type ending, like Clarence the angel, or The Odd Life of Timothy Green, or the Shake Weight from Southpark’s Crème Fraiche episode. It seemed hokey, yet it made perfect sense with the rest of the film. I definitely recommend seeing this movie, though you do spend a lot of time zoomed right the fuck in on Theodore’s face. It gets especially awkward during the sex scenes. Watching Joaquin Phoenix have phone sex with pretty much Siri was certainly not on my bucket list.

The Wolf of Wall Street


      Oh, dear God, I did not like this movie. Forgive me, Leo. Broken down, The Wolf of Wall Street is, essentially:

      2 hours of Scorsese desperately trying to recreate Goodfellas.

      40 minutes of legitimate acting and engaging story.

      A clunky, hollow, abrupt ending because it had nowhere else to go.

      I adore both Scorsese and DiCaprio, but damn, this movie was painful. It’s not that I hate movies about sociopathic criminals. Goodfellas, the film this one tried so hard to mimic, is one of my favourite movies, and it’s about an unrepentant criminal even worse than Jordan Belfort. The problem with The Wolf of Wall Street is the lack of satire, which was such an essential factor in Goodfellas (and Scarface.) In this movie, Scorsese stuck too close to the source material and failed to inject any external insight.

Ladies and gentlemen, the aesthetic paragraph break.

What we have is a one-sided film where we see through the eyes of a sociopath. This means that every single other character we run in to (except, arguably, Donnie Azoff) is shallow and one note, since Belfort only sees people by the purpose they serve for him. In real life, Belfort’s wife was probably a multi-dimensional human being. In the movie, told through his perspective, she’s shoved into the background unless sex is involved. The film also utterly glorifies his lifestyle, to the point where I had to remind myself that they were committing crimes and conning people. The film is so buried in drugs and interchangeable hookers that it almost forgets to mention that little detail. We don’t see anyone that his company scams, and the only cops we interact with show blatant envy for Belfort’s apparently ideal life. I’m not saying that we had to see some sort of fall from grace or grand come-uppance. I just wish the movie would have been more multi-dimensional, or at least focused longer on the actual conflicts that occurred (the 40 aforementioned good minutes). Instead, we’re watching a self-aggrandizing memoir of a very dull narcissist. The movie doesn’t come across as intelligent or satirical. It comes across as beating off all over itself, like The Boondock Saints did. (Shut up, I’ll get to that at a later date.) Other than a few good moments with Hill and DiCaprio, I don’t think this movie is worth checking out.

Dallas Buyers Club


I actually don’t have too much to say about this movie because it really didn’t grab and hold my interest. I give kudos to Matthew McConaughey (totally had to google his last name to spell it) for legitimizing his spotty career with some truly good acting, and of course I loved Jared Leto in his role, but honestly, I couldn’t even tell you their characters’ names. Dallas Buyers Club just didn’t hold me. I was just kind of buying my time, waiting for the credits to roll. I’d say check it out and see if it grabs you. It’s like Rent without the pretentious hipster theme or the shitty songs. The focus is on the disease and how it was handled during the “epidemic,” if that’s the right word. You know, what Rent probably should have been.

…I’m done bashing Rent. On this post, at least.

Philomena



I went into this movie with absolutely no idea what it was about and I was very surprised when it emotionally knocked me on my ass. It’s the story of an Irishwoman looking for her long lost son, and it is heartbreaking. I don’t’ want to give away much, but I will say that I desperately wanted those fucking nuns to be brought to justice, and I will definitely be reading the book on which this movie was based. Also, it was very, very disconcerting to see Judi Dench in such a meek, passive role. She did a wonderful job, but it was very weird. Definitely see this one.

12 Years a Slave



This one is my choice for the Oscar so far, without a doubt, there is no contest. 12 Years a Slave is beautifully written, performed, and shot. It showed slavery as it was in one of the most realistic lights seen in film. Sure, it was still really heavy-handed in its message (SLAVERY IS BAD!!) and I would’ve loved to have seen at least one black slave owner* to blur the colour line that history has such a strong focus on, but that’s asking a bit too much, unfortunately, and the film is still amazing. I’ve actually watched it multiple times because there’s just so much to be seen. Chiwetel Ejiofor’s performance just seizes you and doesn’t let go until long after the credits roll. The tragedy of Patsy is by far my favourite story in this movie. If Jennifer Lawrence beats out Lupita Nyong’o for Best Supporting Actress just because she’s so popular right now, I will be livid. See this movie. It’s amazing. Literally, my biggest critique of this film is Benedict Cumberbatch’s struggle to do a Southern accent, and that was extremely entertaining.

Also, Brad Pitt is the only man alive who can make a moustache-less Amish style beard look good.

Those are the ones I’ve seen so far. I have Nebraska, Gravity, and American Hustle left to see. The Oscars are coming up March 2nd, and I’m pretty excited to see how everything plays out. I definitely think I’ll be making this an annual tradition.


Anyway, sorry for the somewhat dull post. See you all next week!



*Fun fact: “Free persons of colour” regularly owned and sold slaves themselves, especially in New Orleans.

February 13, 2014

My Gushy Valentine's Day Love Spew

First off, and I swear this post isn't like this, but I have to say it: Happy V Day, Boyfriend. <3

                             

Mid February for me is the time when my Facebook news feed is as divided as it is during election times. Couples (okay, women) boast about their Valentine’s Day plans, post pictures of “surprise” gifts from their partners, and gush more proclamations of everlasting love than Shakespeare on E. On the other side of the coin, overly bitter single friends post scathing remarks about the most despised of Hallmark holidays and a barrage of lonely posts that come dangerously close to high school emo poetry.

As far as I’m concerned…well, I’m the girlfriend of a chef, and Valentine’s Day is one of the biggest restaurant days of the year. So…

 
Don't worry, I'm kidding.
I drink liquor, not coffee.

It’s a bummer, but I’ve never been very big on Valentine’s Day. I’m a romantic girl, but not in a candy and flowers kind of way (must…resist urge…to make…sex joke…!). But even if it’s never been a huge deal in the romantic department for me, I really like Valentine’s Day.

It’s been discussed that we throw the word love around too much, therefore diminishing its value. I don’t believe that. If you’re reading this, chances are you know me personally, and you know how ridiculously affectionate I am with anyone within arm’s reach. Friends are subjected to a constant stream of pet names; hun, lovely, beautiful, cutie, sweetie, darling, caro/a, babe, even “my love.” And, as I’ve mentioned previously, I’m also extremely physically affectionate. With the exception of less than a handful of people, if I know you, I love you.

And honestly, I am more than happy to throw that word around. I think we should throw it around more often. Because I mean it. I do love you. If you’re a friend of mine, I definitely love you. I’ve already done a love spew on this blog, but around this time of year, it bears repeating. I’m all over you because I’m excited to see you (like a dog when you walk in the door!). I drunk text you because I love hearing what’s up in your life and for some reason I’m much better at keeping in contact with people while intoxicated. The Boyfriend obviously has a different role in my heart than friends and family, but that doesn’t cheapen my love for everybody else. So if Valentine’s Day is a day of depression and loneliness for you, please cheer up. It breaks my heart to see you down. Seeing as I’m playing the role of chef widow this holiday, I’m more than happy to listen if you need to vent or just need to chat with someone.

Everyone have a wonderful Valentine’s Day, whatever it is you’re doing with it.

I adore you.