This Is Just To Say...Men Rule*.

I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. But I have to be That Girl today and write something potentially disgusting that some of you, my lovely, loyal readers who I honestly lose sleep over trying to think of new ways to appease, may hate and thus boycott this blog. But it needs to be said. If I was not currently at work, I would traipse up to the top floor of the library to sing it from the outdoor patio, but alas, leaving the office during hours is frowned upon (even while blogging, reading Cosmopolitan, and taking personal calls is not,) and I'll have to settle for spreading the good word here:

Last night, after taking my second 50 milligram dose of Zoloft (in the future, please look for a really fun post that will more fully detail WHY I am now being medicated for clinical depression [finally,] as well as how to deal with depression in your relationships), I promptly ceased to retrieve messages fired from my neurons and washed it down with two glasses of a very tasty Malbec (...red wine, for those of you not obsessed with all things vino), which I will NEVER do again (or, at least, not until I really, really, RULLY want a $5 house margarita at Miguel's), because, suffice it to say, I ended up brushing my teeth while leaning at a 45-degree angle between the bathroom door and wall and then passed out mid-scene while Buffy and Angel were cuddling in bed in Angel: Season One while spooning my cat and WHO REALLY DOES THAT. Anyway, I learned my lesson re: anti-depressants and depressants and that's what really matters. That, and the fact that after receiving "Giant shark vs. mega octopus?" as a response to my 12:30 AM "I'm a dumbass who mixed drugs and drinking and I may not be alive in the morning due to the fact that my heart currently feels like a epileptic trying to dance to dubstep and isn't it always said that heart attack signs are so much harder to diagnose and tend to go unnoticed in women? so I just wanted to let you know 'cause I thought you might care" text to TGIS, he texted me back again this morning while I was (alive) (un-heart attacked) (sober) at work, just to see how I was feeling (and concernedly chastise/advise me about my medicating and self-medicating actions in the future like I was sitting in a high school chem class while he pointed to a pie chart labeled "Bad Life Decisions You Have Made Broken Down Into Things That Contain Chemical Symbols", but that is an after-thought besides the point and sir, you need not worry. Lesson LEARNED.)

...Or possibly maybe just to see if I were still alive or if he is now a free agent. Men. But that's the point...Men.

There. I'm sorry. I had to brag. Sometimes, men are the best. And in my honest opinion, he is the best of the best.

XOXO

(*Qualifier: "Sometimes." Amazing how easy seemingly insignificant little things can be, yet still make a woman sing a guy's praises, isn't it? Please note, dog-ear, and favorite this notion for future use, you of the Y chromosomes.)