Brian and I started an awesome Valentine’s Day tradition last year: ZooPals.
This year, we ordered our ZooPals a couple of weeks ago, and our packets came last week. We already knew what they were, so we decided to open them early (also, I won’t be here for Valentine’s Day). I got Brian a polar bear, and he got me an otter!
Brian and I thought about going to Detroit to watch the Cavs play the Pistons Friday night, but we didn’t buy cheap tickets soon enough. Instead, I went with Kim to a painting class. Everyone paints (pretty much) the same picture along with the teacher. I did not want to go, but I ended up really enjoying it. Here are some pictures that I took for Chiara during the class (the canvas was blank/white when we came in, but the teacher had traced the circle for the moon in pencil ahead of time):
When Kim brought me home after the class, she came in so we could look at the photobook I made for our trip to Punxsutawney in 2010. What a fun and cold time we had then!
Saturday morning, Brian and I woke up early and tried to watch the live feed from Punx on the internet, but it was choppy and disappointing (I was told later that The Weather Channel had extensive coverage of the Knob, and I’m not sure why I was such a dimwit who didn’t think of that). At any rate, here’s the proclamation:
Brian got me a new FM transmitter for my car, and he also got me pretty flowers and a balloon full of helium (suck it, shortage!):
Brian also made me some delicious buffalo burgers for my birthday dinner (both days this weekend, actually!)
Here’s a slutty cat enjoying the fireplace heat:
We watched the Super Bowl, yadayada.
Today, the shirts came in for the Komen Lady Rocket game. Like any normal person (?), I ordered 60 of them for whoever my dad and I can con into paying $5 for a shirt and ticket. My dad is a peach and picked them up for me on his way home from work and dropped them off at our house. I counted them and gave him his share and kept the ones I need to give to my peeps. Here’s what the shirt looks like:
It’s kind of weird that I sort of enjoy this sort of shirt distributing/organizing…it only really comes into play with this Komen game and the Marching MilliCUREies team/shirts. If only I could make a totally enjoyable career out of it, or have similar enthusiasm for making a dent in my fatness…
In other downtrodden t-shirt-related news, my estranged mother sent me a present for my birthday (in addition to a birthday text and the card included in the package that included a(nother) keepsake bookmark):
RAAAAAGE.
No, thanks, I do not want a shirt (that is too small because I’m disgusting) from the shitty trashball Walmart ZZ-Top-trashball-dude town you live in. BOOOOOOOOOOO LEAVE ME ALONE BOOOOOOOOOO. WHY WOULD A PERSON SEND SUCH A TERRIBLE PRESENT? OH HERE’S A SHIRT TO REMIND YOU WHERE MY AWESOME NEW MONEY-WASTEY SUPER AWESOME (AHAHAHAH) LIFE IS! YAY.