Did I mention that it’s like –5 degrees in Chicago right this very second? This kind of number deserves some good ol’ fashioned cursing. Let me impress upon you how cold it is: It is mother f-ing negative (that’s a minus sign) five fucking degrees outside. Right now. Literally. This isn’t some figurative “feels like” number. This is the real deal. It FEELS like we live right smack in the middle of an ice cube, but it’s ACTUALLY –5 degrees.
But that’s what I love about Chicagoans (the born and breed and the transplanted). Ain’t nothing gonna stop us from getting to the bar.
But I digress.
So, I -- being the gracious and wonderful girlfriend that I sometimes pretend to be -- gave MM the night off so he could get some homework done, and – you know – not leave his warm house (unlike his girlfriend, the idiot).
I went out by myself, which means I came home by myself. I do a lot of shameful, self-indulgent things when I’m alone. When I came home at midnight (I know – I’m wild) last night, I easily reclaimed one of my most beloved post-drinking behaviors… sitting on the couch watching Tivo-ed reruns of The Entourage and Sex and the City while eating my face off.
I'm also classy.
Which bring me to…
This.The remains of the lasagna MM and I made on Friday night. Did I mention it’s vegan? That’s right, no cheese.
And it’s friggin’ amazing. A-MAH-ZING.
So amazing, in fact, that I sat on the couch last night, with the entire casserole dish in my lap and mindlessly crammed cold vegan lasagna into my face.
Nothing but class my friends.