I hate hearts, but what else is new?

Hey, Happy Valentines Day. I mean if you are into that sort of thing. It’s not my favorite holiday but I have curtailed my usual disdain of heart-shaped stuff for the occasion, on the off chance that Maverick might buy me a heart-shaped box of dark-chocolate-covered something. But as long as he doesn’t buy me the “hot new fashion sensation,” a pair of Pajama Jeans, I’ll be content. Have you seen the commercial for these things? No, I’m not kidding, and I have to admit I wish I had made it up myself, it’s just too priceless: the elastic waist, the “mock fly,” the “stylish boot cut,” the “smooth butt lifting design!”  Jeans “so comfortable you’ll want to sleep in them.”   Why?  “Regular jeans can leave marks on your skin.”  Oh.  “Wear them while working out!”  Seriously??  “Great with sandals or sneakers, or roll them up to a cute cuff!”  How did we ever live without them?  All we need now is a Snuggie Tuxedo.

Anyway, Mav and I already had our Valentine’s Day Date on Saturday night, at one of our favorite restaurants in the city.  Funny though, that we both looked at each other with disappointment as we headed out, the anticipation of having to spend the entire evening alone together somehow not being what either of us wanted.  Why hadn’t we invited friends? What the hell were we going to talk about all night? Luckily we were able to make many new friends while waiting at the bar (although I really would have loved to make the acquaintance of the dude who came in wearing a bright-pink, sequined jacket thing-y), and we managed to drag some of them  around with us for the rest of the night, forcing them to listen to me sing at my favorite piano bar (if only I had remembered my tambourine), and drink martinis instead of chardonnay.  Of course they all found me utterly charming, which I am!  If my new friends from Sweden are reading, I hope you managed to dump that obnoxious guy with the giant head who only wanted to sing Irish ballads.  BOR-ING!!  To the nice guy in the tux, I hope your girlfriend wasn’t too pissed off that you left her at that wedding to hang out with us.  And to that Indian guy who loved my hair, I hope you aren’t still hanging around with that bitch who was bossing you around like she was your girlfriend, your wife or your mother but wasn’t any of the above. She’s not better than you just because she’s not Indian. But I digress.

Today is a special day and to show my family how much I love them, I’m preparing one of their favorite meals for dinner.  I’ve already handed out gifts this morning, (including homemade chocolate candies that I made with my own two hands from scratch and made a complete mess of my stovetop and counters when I was tempering the chocolate, and don’t even remind me that I ruined my new sweater in the process), as they all headed out the door to work and school, and as I didn’t get anything in return, not even a kiss, I’m not expecting anything later on.  All I will ask is that they not bring their new iphones to the dinner table, as has become their habit over the last week.  Sure I’m a little jealous, but is it really necessary to “face time” each other when we are all in the same room?  And must there be yet another conversation about which is the best and most protective cover?  and how the one I picked out for them sucks? When Charles took a stupid picture of me and then used that app to make me look all deformed like my reflection in a fun-house mirror, it was kind of funny.  Less funny when he sent it to all his friends.  It was completely unnecessary for Maverick to send it to his friends.  If you are going to take my photo with your phone it’s only fair that you wait until I am having a good hair day, when I’m wearing makeup, and after I’ve had at least one glass of wine (my smile is much more natural looking then). Please don’t take my bad side, and try to focus on my face, but not too close. See, I am willing to cooperate completely, and I might even let you take more than one. Let’s be honest, I can get you all back by buying myself a pair of Pajama Jeans and showing up at your office, your lunch table or the Junior High dance. You know I would do it.

Don’t tempt me.