Not that this is news to anyone, but it’s Valentine’s Day. I’ve always celebrated it in some fashion, despite my cynicism surrounding hyped-up over commercialized weekdays (it is, after all, just another day). But the truth is, it’s not the worst one of the bunch. Sure, all the red and pink doilies and hearts can make you feel a bit sick to your stomach, and if you don’t have a sweetheart, you might feel a bit left out of the celebration and forced into one of two categories: those who are single and celebrate anyway in defiance by eating chocolate, and those who eschew the romantic contextualization completely and celebrate making it through another Tuesday…by eating chocolate. It’s too bad that our culture demands that anyone choose sides on a holiday, which is supposed to be for everyone and not, as Bridget Jones puts it, just for the “smug marrieds.” But it is, after all, at its heart (pun intended), a holiday that values love and chocolate, which are pretty universal smilemakers, and happen to be two of my personal favorite things. And this year, I have a pretty good reason to celebrate.
Barf! No seriously I love them.