I'm really amused by the Valentine's Day-directed commercials that say things to the effect of, "Make her day so she'll make your night." Do these men really have to work that hard to get laid? A hooker would probably be cheaper than the inflated prices of a dozen roses and a box of chocolates on Valentine's Day. I'll be spending Valentine's Day without Darren. Less pressure that way, you know.

I just sent out twenty job applications. I counted. TWENTY. It was a long morning and now all I want to do is assume the fetal position and cry because that's twenty more jobs I won't get. I'm not actually that bothered by it. I'm sending out applications so it LOOKS like I want a job, but I'm enjoying mooching off those who are close to me. (There's nothing like using loved ones.)

Tomorrow I go home, though I'm not sure how long I'll be there. I've had so damn much fun living with Darren the past month. Something tells me I'll be back before long, so leaving shouldn't be as devestating as it could otherwise be.

That's all. Move along. Nothing to see here.