Happy Belated Valentine’s Day

I have absolutely no Valentine’s Day tradition or pattern, whatsoever. Some years I’m in a relationship (never with the same person 2 consecutive years, until now) and others I’m not.

Some years I get taken out to a romantic McDonald’s dinner where I’m forced to unexpectedly go in to the restaurant [to get take-out] wearing the tight, white, camel toe track pants so my date can flaunt his “attractiveness” to his ex-co-workers.

Other years, I’m (unknowingly) the last of 4 girls my man-friend decided to spend Valentine’s Day with, giving me the 11:00pm - 12:00am time slot before freaking out at the concept of commitment and taking off.

Some years, I thank fuck I have girl friends.

Although some days they’re more of a hassle than a virtue. I somehow thought leaving Stratford (a.k.a. the shit talking, back stabbing capital of Southwestern Ontario) would alleviate some of the drama in my life but it would seem that geographical location has no impact whatsoever on emotional turmoil, jealousy and raw, girl nature.

I would never mislead you, though. I’d say around 35% of the drama in my life is self-inflicted and the other 198% comes from surrounding myself with people who fake Out Of Office reply me, duke it out via any social media available, marry illegal aliens for money, get so drunk they threaten people with knives, and who make just generally poor life choices.

Sometimes I think it would be easier to just move to Alaska but then I wouldn’t have anything to write about except the Huskies. 

And I wouldn’t have anyone listen to me whine on Twitter when I’m desperately craving attention. Which, let’s face it, is often.

Okay so maybe I’m more like 60% responsible. Let’s say 55% and call it a day, shall we? It’s getting late and I need to start sorting through the 6 pairs of shoes I’ve packed for Vegas and decide which are absolute necessities. After much deliberation, I decided that it seems a bit foolish to take more pairs of shoes than the amount of nights I’ll be spending there. Especially since I am not one of those girls who goes melty about shoes.

I got my $3 cowboy boots at a garage sale on College Street last summer. I’ve got far better things to be melty about. Like love.

And.. you know, baby animals. ‘Cause at the end of the day, what else does a girl really have besides her integrity, her passion and her ability to Google adorable, tiny creatures at the touch of a button.

Good night, moon. ♥