In the ninth grade, Donny R. showed up with a big I LOVE YOU balloon and a Walgreen�s bag of chocolates. It was so very Donny, and that made me laugh. When the balloon deflated, I stapled it to my bedroom wall. It was still on my wall when I moved out for college, despite having not talked with him since our breakup, when I learned that he had a girlfriend one town over. She lied, saying she was 14 instead of her actual 12 years, and it was pretty rad knowing that she was shoving it to him.

In the tenth grade I had a boyfriend named Chad B. He was on his way out, and he knew it. But instead of just letting our two-schools-over romance fade, he showered me with flowers, candy, and a heart-shaped necklace. On the actual night of Valentine�s Day, Daniel S. drove me home from my basketball game and told me that he wanted me to be his girlfriend. I told him he was crazy. That April I changed my mind, and my heart�s first pitter-patter was directed toward a lanky red-haired boy who was country down to his core.

My junior year of college, Matt came home empty-handed. In the early days of our five years together, he was a bit of a shit with that sort of stuff. The few VD�s after that were marked with flowers of two different colors. I�ll keep quiet on the different colors and meanings and whatnot because I don�t want to ruin my street cred as a hardass.

The next Valentine�s Day I was in Chicago. Someone sweet sent me tulips, saying he wished he could again see my lips. It never happened, but I wish him well.

The next one I was fully entwined with someone. I got blue flowers (my favorite color) delivered to work, and that night we went out for fondue. Being two not-very-fancy people, we laughed through a red wine haze in the restaurant�s romantic darkness about how we were eating �fancy nachos�. Our next year was sushi at a place we�d never tried and exchanged cards that we both made. We likely came home with a bottle (or three) of red wine and lounged on the couch in front of his fireplace.

Last year I threw a Kick-the-Crap-Out-of-Love party with full intentions of watching Kung-fu movies. Instead, the party attendees and I drank a whole bunch while talking and standing around my kitchen island. It was a great way to spend the wretched holiday since I was suffering open wounds from the above-mentioned blue-flower-wielding craphead.

And although I�ve had a few stereotypical, a few thoughtful, and a few bum years, last night was the best of them I�ve had.

The first good part to yesterday was that I got a new project at work. It�s very openly known at work that I have what can be perceived as either the healthiest attitude toward work-life balance or am completely ambivalent to what goes on around me. Usually I�m the one cranking out high-quality TPS reports on whatever it is I�m asked to go though. Everything always gets done, and it gets done well... But it�s very clear that I just don�t give a crap.

But when there�s a project that has something to do with this one topic, and someone else with very little experience was given the task to lead it, I usurped the crap outta that and have since spearheaded everything, including giving it an official Starter Kit title so it sounds like I�m doing so much more than I am. Muhahaha.

Anyway, I�m working on something that�s reasonably cool. (Well, as cool as the dorky work things go, anyway.) Working on things that don�t make me want to poke my eyes out is good, so yay for yesterday at work.

I jetted out of work at 5 to change into jeans, stuff a bottle of wine into my big purse, and head to the dentist. After last week�s teeth cleaning where I talked with my current ho-hum dentist about cosmetic dentistry and was told that insurance would not cover it under any circumstances but that she could replace it for me, I decided that I�d go somewhere shinier for this massive out-of-pocket expense.

With my appointment confirmed through a nice lady on the Internet, I had pictures taken, an x-ray made, and met a lady with really pretty teeth and lots of degrees who showed me pictures of her previous work, explained everything that Google already told me all about, and then gave me an estimate that made my jaw drop.

I did some side work last year specifically to pay for this. After taxes I had a chunk of change that I�ve been drawing 5.04% on in one of my accounts since then. I�ve been calculating the pennies while pining away for this stuff to be done, working up the nerve to get an estimate so I knew what I�d have to pony up.

When she showed me the estimate on the computer screen, my jaw dropped because it was so much cheaper than what I was expecting. Like one-third of the amount. So I have my first two appointments scheduled where I�ll get everything started. All work will be complete in about three months. YAY!

With two-thirds of the saved money now just sitting there and my newfound confidence in obtaining estimates with hopes that I�ll be happily surprised, I�ve just made an appointment with the laser hair people to make it so I Never Have To Shave Again.

Bring. It. On.

So after getting the good news on my teeth, I headed to dinner with two friends. We had our usual wonderfully delicious Thai food and washed it down with two bottles of wine.

And then I did what I usually do while drunk: I invited them to move to LA with me at the end of this year. And like all of the drunken people I drunkenly mention this to, they too agreed to go. If everyone I asked to move to LA with me went, I�d have an entire commune.

A really fucking cool commune.

I ended the night with a trip to Walgreen�s, where I bought a big pack of ice cream bars and handed them out to random people on the street, wishing them a happy Valentine�s Day.

If that isn�t what days should be made of, I don�t know what is. �