Saturday, February 13, 2016

An Ode To Singles Awareness Day: VNAIOEVISNGEIJG!$%!!



Valentine's Day is awesome. It's about love and shit. I love to be in love. It feels warm and fuzzy and exciting and makes me flush and blush and say stupid girly stuff. It's crazy butterflies in your stomach and laughing at their hilarious jokes that you're hearing for the very first time (but certainly not the last). It's reaching for your phone every time something interesting happens in your day that you just can't wait to share with your person. And let's be honest - it's a great reminder to appreciate how amazing your partner is.

But what you do when you're not in love on Valentine's Day? What about my fellow single gals? A friend told me today that Valentine's Day is also called "Singles Awareness Day" for those of us who don't have a definitive person in their lives as yet.

WTF.

Singles Awareness Day? I reject this. Straight up. Fuck that name. Fuck it.

On behalf of singles everywhere, I'm hereby officially renaming this holiday VNAIOEVISNGEIJG!$%!! Let me explain.


Though I won't be spending Valentine's Day with "the person" for me, I will absolutely be spending time with someone I love: ME. And I don't love me (or hate me) because I'm single. I love me because I'm awesome. Nor is my cognizance of my singlehood cause for a special celebration. I'm celebrating me because I'm badass. Which is why I reject the "Singles Awareness Day" title in its entirety.

Instead, VNAIOEVISNGEIJG!$%!! represents my love for myself. Because here's how my Valentine's Day is going down:

I excitedly bought two bottles of my favorite red wine earlier in the day in anticipation of my me-date. So, I grab my best wine glass and pour myself, roughly, a double dose, but who's counting? I lock myself in my bedroom as soon as this kids are asleep. I put whatever-the-fuck music I want on - loud enough to feel the bass thump in my chest. I HIGHLY recommend starting with "One Time" by Marian Hill (I certainly will). I light exactly 23 candles around my bedroom, ignoring my tendency to accidentally set things on fire because of my unhealthy addiction to candles. Because ambience is way important - duh. I tie my hair up in that wicked pineapple shape on top of my head and get right around half-naked. Just because I can. I probably do a little sexy dance in the mirror for a couple of minutes - because, at this point, I'm on glass #2 and have decided that it's important to practice my "moves." At some point in the middle of my groove to an Imagine Dragons cut, I'm distracted by all the clothes in my closet. There's some shit in there I haven't worn in FOREVER! Well, what better time to try on that white wool blazer from two years ago than when I'm drinking red wine, feeling my oats, and moving around my room erratically? I try it on and, of course, it's amazeballs. I decide to keep the white wool blazer on for the duration of the evening because WHY HAVEN'T I EVER WORN THIS BEFORE?? It's so fucking AWESOME. It's entirely possible I've now opened bottle #2.

Then I'm hit with a dilemma: What color eyeshadow can I really wear with a white blazer? It becomes immediately apparent to me that this question cannot go unresolved. I pull out every eyeshadow in my box of tricks. (Why do I still have orange glitter eyeshadow from Halloween in here?) I start painting my face.

Well, I probably should have stopped putting crap on my face about 12 eyeshadows ago. Honestly, I'm just half-ass attempting to wipe the makeup off with tissue as I go, which is, more or less, the equivalent of wiping my ass backwards. It's all just black. But, hey! I'm on glass #??? and this mixed black color with orange sparkly streaks is totally working for me! I should write down how I got to this color. But I don't. Because I'm now in the I've-had-so-much-wine-that-I-can't-focus-for-five-minutes-so-IDGAF-anymore stage. The music is jamming and I forgot to practice my "signature move" earlier. Back to the mirror to practice. 

Wait. Where's my wine glass? I need my wine glass. I need it. I start to panic. I see the bottle - there's more in there. But where's my glass?? Ah! On the top of my toilet bowl. Found it. Crisis averted. Because who doesn't take their wine to the bathroom to pee?

I empty bottle #2 into my glass and decide to see what other cool shit I can find in my room. Things I find while rummaging around my room: a USB drive (ewwww, what's on that??!!), an extra iPhone cord (I needed that!), hookah tobacco, dried up baby wipes, Mardi Gras beads, and HATS!! I didn't realize how many hats I have! Obviously this means I have to try every single one of them on. I decide that I have a straight-up RUDE amount of Fedoras and make a mental note to straighten that out. I get through half of the hats before the two bottles of wine whispers into my ear that I should dance on my bed. I mean, why not?

Cut to 7:00 am 2/15: I crack my eyes open and immediately realize that my face is stuck to the keyboard on my laptop. I slowly peel my face away and sit up bleary-eyed in my bed to try and assess what the fuck happened on my me-date. Why am I naked except for a way-too-tight white blazer covered in black streaks and an absurd amount of red wine? Why is my floor covered in shit I never wear? Why is my makeup literally EVERYWHERE?  Why do I have three piles of hats chilling in my room? I hear the faint sound of music still quietly playing in the background and can see all of my candles are burned to the stubs. My head is pounding, but I snicker at myself a little as I pull it together enough to throw on some clothes. I must have had a great time on my me-date. I start to head out of my room when I glance over at my laptop to see what kind batshit writing antics I pulled last night. Apparently, I didn't get too far because all I see is a blank white page with big black letters at the top:

VNAIOEVISNGEIJG!$%!!

Yep. That pretty much sums up my Valentine's me-date. Non-sensical, random, and fun. Mental note: More fun me-dates like this, please.

Happy Valentine's Day. Happy VNAIOEVISNGEIJG!$%!!. #stayunchained





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