Q: You know what’s better than birthday sex?

A: Girlfriend-Getting-Her-Way-Sex.

Yesterday, after almost four years of companionship, I think my boyfriend finally got it.

And by “it,” I mean he realized that he should just let me get my way. Dude was mad resistant up until now in spoiling me, which I am NOT accustomed to at all. He always felt like he had to challenge me, to have his say in things.

And then yesterday he said the eight magic words every girlfriend secretly wants to hear: “Honestly, I don’t care. Do whatever you want.”

Now, this may seem like a far cry from a victory to you, but this was in response to a question I had about pillowcases, and ultimately, our new room scheme. Before last night, anytime there was a decision to be made about our living quarters from our toilet brush to wood v. glass tables, he had to have input. We fought constantly about our fucking comforter (He hates mine, I hate his, etc.) until last night, as we propped up Lappy to watch Weeds in bed, and I asked him about sewing new pillowcases for our mega awesome new pillows (for side-sleepers and everything, on some scientific shit). Maybe he was over it, or I finally broke him (kidding!) but he waved the relationship white flag and gave the fuck up.

I was still smiling on my way to work today.

In short, I win.

But I’m not a selfish, self-serving bitch. Please believe that my man is going to be one happy bunny in the very near future, because we all know what Teresa from the Real Housewives says. And truer words were never spoken.

Christmas in June

I had to pop out of work to go make sure the packages that were delivered to mi casa in fact stayed in my possession. I mean I live thisclose to Richmond, ya’ll. Just being realistic.

Pick ups of the day:

And after waiting like a year (seriously) this made its way to Craig’s Key

THANK YOU IAN!!! Best present ever!

Denim on denim, nigga.

I feel like it’s a cardinal sin to wear denim with more denim. I had a conversation with a (now ex-) girlfriend about this and we came to the consensus that, no, you should never do this. Ever. This was in reference to wearing jeans with a denim jacket (we were in Chemistry at the moment and decided our T.A. was in the midst of creating a serious fashion faux pas) but I think that it applies, like, always.

Anway, cut to five years later.

Today I’m wearing a denim jacket-like article with jeans, and just to drive my point home, denim shoes.

Oh and I’m only wearing navy and black.

Fashion fail?

Only if it’s opposite day. 

UPDATE: I totally got a passive-aggressive all-staff email in my inbox reminding us that Friday, is indeed, the day to wear jeans. WOMP, WOMP. 

It still rules to be me, sucks to be you (read: bitter and old). 

I never met a sick day I didn’t like.

Today, dear readers, is one of those glorious days that we always dream of. I am sitting in my favorite pajamas, drinking coffee and eating yogurt, while watching SNL digital shorts (fuck oak trees, I climb buoys, motherfucker!) and reading my Chinese horoscope.

In short, I’ve called in sick.

=)

Sometimes the planets align creating the makings of an amazing day. This is one of them. Things that are making me smile:

The sun is shining and the weather is sweet.

I’m wearing a sundress in February.

Gossip Girl was reaaaaallly good last night, and Dan and Rachel boinked to DIOY,Y? Greatest. Show. Of. All. Time.

Benji Hughes is the TRUTH and is the only thing I’ve listened to for the past 24 hours.

Benji Hughes – Love on a Budget

I’m starting my V-Day Present Extravangza today, cuz yknow, I’m crafty like that.

The only way this day could get any better is if someone couriered me some grape toast. But then I’d just have to go and die, so maybe it’s for the best. 

</love fest>

Rejoice indeed.

My phone fucking sucks. I’ve dropped it on average of two times per week for like months. You would think that I’d have figured out by now that my front pockets are mad shallow, but I havennnnn’t.

My track ball doesn’t let me scroll down, I lost my “back” button in the rain, in the dark, in a safeway parking lot last Saturday. The faceplate is dumb loose, and oh, I look like a child (high school – max) every time I make a call.

Moral of the story: I’m over it.

The countdown has begun. According to Gizmodo my prayers will be answered in t-minus thirteen days.

Thank the Lord.