Saint Valentine. Why must you smite me?

It's that time of year. You, the coupled, call it Valentines Day. We, the independents, call it Singles Awareness Day (also known as S.A.D.) While others will be toasting to companionship and the fact that you will most likely be getting some, I will be enjoying my second annual S.A.D. festivities. For the second year, my friends and I (some coupled but they have to pretend to not like each other for the night) will be singing karaoke in our own room atop Fugi Mountain restaurant. I plan on opening with "All by myself" leading into "un break my heart" then maybe up the tempo a little with "love stinks". I kid. In reality it's just an excuse to get drunk with my peeps and crack a few glasses, with what I always think at the time is my angelic voice.

Operation me time hit a snag today. I'm moderately hairy and this freezing weather is blackening my soul. And instead of going out and trying to meet people, I opted to stay in this weekend and play a crap load of guitar hero and sing star for ps2. I justified it cause I was drunk and people came over. We tried to go to Loie and it stunk, and we realized we were having much more fun with the video games. But then I fell outside of wawa when I was trying to get a hot dog. It was so worth it because it was the best late night hot dog ever made. And every time I look at the scab on my hand, I remember. Oh hot dog, will you be my Valentine?

OK I'm going to try to get out of this funk and go to the gym. grrrrrrrr. Oh and I am going to take up yoga. Although I'm afraid I'm going to look like an asshole during the first class. The fact that the place is covered with windows doesn't help.

Tah.