It's the day after the day of love, as my roommate refers to it. How are we holding up? Are we a bit blue, or perchance a bit green from the unholy amounts of delicious chocolate and not-so-delicious conversation hearts that we've eaten? I personally made cupcakes, chocolate because everyone knows that's the only kind worth eating (especially if you're using a mix . . .)with pink and white heart sprinkles. Basically it's what one might refer to as quote-unquote: festive. Besides the fact that I felt domestic making them, even if it was a mix. I tried to make the frosting do this oh-so appetizing and oh-so chic twirly thing on the top of the cupcake . . .success eluded me for the most part. As did sightings of unattractive stuffed animals . . . partly refreshing and partly disappointing. What's a Valentine's day without cheesey cheap pink polyester playthings? I tell you now: nearly nothing. But here's what I don't love: calling Valentine's Day V-Day. MEOW!!! Not so much, I say, not so much. That's what we might call an uncomfortable word. Unlike James Marsden in 27 Dresses, but there is next to no time to talk about him, although I could go on and on about our date last night. But alack and alas class calls and I must go study Piaget's pre-operational stage of cognitive development.