Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, probably the most nauseating day of the year. There is nothing I find more annoying or more of a cliché that couples proposing to each other, getting married or staring longingly into each other’s eyes on Valentine’s Day. I actually think any guy who is with me is extremely lucky, as I tell him not to buy me either cards, chocolates or skimpy underwear for Valentine’s, and certainly NOT propose to me at the top of some Eiffel Tower. All I really require my boyfriend to do for me when I get to Sweden later this week is to cook me his delicious Spaghetti Bolognese and join me in front of the television to see Norway crush Sweden in the Winter Olympics. And I am not being this cynical about Valentine’s because I have bad experiences – love declarations just scare the hell out of me.
Devoid of all male contact and love, Lida, Ewa and I decided to have a lesbian threesome Valentine’s date at Ramsay Hall with take-away pizzas, discount Pringles, plenty of gossip and the masterpiece “He is Just Not That Into You”. And no, I am not inclined to admit that I cried when one of the characters got proposed to in the end.
And just to further procrastinate my planned revision for the upcoming slide test on Wednesday, I am going to make fun of all you fashion bloggers out there and show you what I bought on famous, fashionable Oxford Street today:
The saddest thing about this whole thing is that now that I am blogging about something as shallow and uninteresting as fashion, my blog will probably hit the Top 10 list in less than a week. That is the way it always goes. The world is sad and pathetic.