who needs a valentine when you can have empanadas?

i've always thought of myself as the neurotic, excessively practical, organized type. but maybe i'm wrong- or better yet, evolving...

i didn't think that anything could ease the blow of being up at the crack of dawn on sunday morning after only a few hours of restless sleep (you'd think i'd have learned to drink water after drinking and not wake up at 3AM completely parched), but as i was packing up my bag to go to work, boy was i amused to discover that the bright green faux-alligator wallet that i bought for $10 at the discount store yesterday is j-lo brand! while i'd feel a certain amount of shame in knowingly acquiring j-lo accessories, i'm delighted (if not proud) to have done it by accident.

after the marathon of shopping with my blogmate we hopped in the car to one of our favorite low-brow hang-outs: the village tap in roscoe village (in keeping with our resolution to only ever hang out in bars with fire places). driving through boys town on the way there we were wildly gesticulated at by a wildy gay couple. i thought they were fussing at me for blocking the cross walk, and even considered that one of my headlights was blown, but i didn't figure out until later that what i had was a flat tire. so after activating the glorious AAA roadside assistance, we did what any respectable 20 something professionals would do- made a b-line for the closest bar. what we found was an extremely cute, trendy, and way-cooler-than-us tapas joint... after a delicious pre-meal of sangria and shrimp empanadas, with name of trendy, way-cooler-than-us techno spanish CD in hand, we watched the AAA guy change the tire and continued on to roscoe village for beer and fries. i tell this story to point on the following: we were actually happy to have suffered the flat-tire mishap, but for which we would not have found the cool new hang out (from now on we will only ever hang out at understated, candle-lit tapas bars) and had yet another night of drinking our way through an automotive disaster.

finally, i'll tell you that yesterday afternoon (before the shopping, way before the flat tire and the sangria) i was on the phone with a friend who was describing an acquaintance as being well-bread, well-educated and precise. without any attempt at the supressing the thought i heard myself respond, "i HATE precision."

have i become a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants optimist?