Hard lessons learned

We decided to have an "After-Valentine's Day Come Down Fiesta." Valentine's day is lame (I said that last year while I was in a relationship so don't chalk me up to some bitter old spinster). It just is. Do we really need some random day out of the year where everybody wears red and buys each other tacky, expensive jewelry? Don't we already have Christmas? My girl Tess would disagree, but she's what you would call a "romantic."

Anyway, back to the good stuff. After Valentine's Day Come Down Fiesta. Great. It envolved a bonfire (I always called them bombfires when I was little...) and a bag full of ex-boyfriend paraphanalia. Not the recent ex....the high school/early college years ex. And boy howdy, was he a shit ass and a half. We discovered the bag at my mom's house this past weekend and it had some entertainin pictures and a few notes in it. Nothin x-rated now, I'm not that kind of girl.....

The burning of the junk wasn't a mad-as-hell-Waitin-To-Exhale-Deleted-Scene. It was just a way to get rid of junk. I don't have any feelings for the poor fella either way. But I do have some funny ass stories.

My freshman year of college, I went to Indiana University. He was a high school senior on the wrestling team. I drove 7 hours to go watch his regional match/meet/what the hell ever. We were leanin up against the railing watching the match goin on below us. He had his arm drapped around me. And there walked by this girl who went to school with him and worked at the local plastic surgery clinic. She worked there to pay off her fake boobies (yeah, I just said boobies). He followed her chest with her eyes and day-dreamingly said, "Dang, you just can't help but look at those."

And I let that diamond in the ruff get away....Bummer.