I love v-day! If you know me you know this, and you know why. I love everything positive about it. (Of course everything has negatives. The worst in my opinion, regarding v-day, is unrealistic expectations.) I love seeing men buying flowers and carrying them around, I love seeing women carry their delivered flowers home from work, I love seeing couples everywhere, I love seeing groups of single women getting together and having a blast. All the happiness and all the love. That’s what I love about it.
Because I had been sick with IBS/Car stress related stuff all week, we modified our original V-Day plans, but we kept the main two parts – We kept our reservations at Moxies and we went to see a pretty great line-up of bands down town. The original plan included alcohol and dancing, but I was definitely not feeling up to that, and also, the car repair bill had us considering cancelling v-day altogether. We agreed on Restaurant & Bands, but no gifts, no cards, no flowers, no chocolate, no froufrou.
Moxies was SO good! I loved that place. We made a pact before entering: We were both to put our phones away during the entire time that we were inside the restaurant, unless one of us went to the wash room. I confess, this rule was harder to remember for me than it was for J. I loved the light fixtures in there. I thought the washrooms were pretty rad too. They even had a wicker basket on the counter full of v-day cards with a sign to please take one and bring it back to our love. J informed me that the men’s washroom has a little flat screen tv in front of every urinal. I had the tropical mango chicken and it was delicious.
[I just said rad. I never say rad. I just felt like writing rad. This is my blog, so I did. At choir rehearsal tonight, the choir director called something ‘nifty’. Then she wondered out loud how uncool the use of the word ‘nifty’ is these days. She asked B, the teenage girl sitting next to me, what young people call exciting things now. “It’s not awesome any more is it?” B shrugs and says “Kids my age just don’t get excited about much these days.” Everyone laughed because it’s so true… but it’s kind of sad. I hope they secretly get excited.]
We went home to change, and my stomach started rumbling. We went to the show, and I spent a fair duration of it in the gross ladies washroom. So.Gross. Why are women so disgusting in public washrooms? Being nauseous in a gross bar washroom is being exponentially nauseous. Inception Nausea. I couldn’t breathe, it was so hot and smelly in there. It smelled like sweet vanilla or something, courtesy of the girl standing too close to me who stepped on my feet, mixed with waves of eau de sweat when all would raise their arms/horns in unison. Man, you could feel the heat wave when everyone raised their arms at the same time. The last time I came back from the gross washrooms, J asked me if I wanted to go home. I asked if he minded, he didn’t. We left in the middle of the set of the biggest named band there.
We had booked the Friday off, for a v-day long weekend. Almost as soon as I got home with my car from the garage, with the paid invoice, sigh, I felt better. It was a pretty awesome long weekend that included ice cream, board games, a little bit of shopping, a movie, kitty cuddles, and a snow storm.