I Did Not Make Out on Valentine's Day

I did this instead:


Mail! Snail mail. A real postcard addressed to me in my mailbox from my favorite blogger in the universe - this lady. She knows me too well.

She knows I'm looking for a real man who will fight a fictitious tiger/jaguar/giant-killer-cat to the death to protect me. I mean who doesn't want that really? I'll even wear that ridiculous dress. Universe, hear my prayer. Thank you, thank you MJ!


Remember last year on Valentine's day when I went out with 

Date #66, that really "nice" foreign guy who brought me roses on our date? Remember when he freaked out on me two dates later? This is still one of my best dates stories ever. 


Why is this word so hard to spell? I can't express to you how excited I am about my new vacuum that sucks in the best ways possible. Call me old, call me weird, but just know this: Eureka! My apartment is clean. 


German beers do not disappoint. 


Who sent me these beautiful tulips? Seriously, this has never happened to me. I swear I did not send them to myself. 

The only people in the world who know I don't like roses but really like tulips (and who also know my address) are my ex-boyfriends, and I doubt they sent me flowers on V-day. The note said only this: "Happy day that is Feb. 14". Mysterious. I fucking love mysteries.  

Hope you all are laughing, drinking, and stumbling upon wondrous mysteries on this silly day.