Buttercup

I was supposed to go on a date tonight, but was still feeling sniffly and gross, so I cancelled. Rather, I invited two of my best friends in the whole world over, Travis and Steve. I cooked the two of them dinner (recipe courtesy of Vanessa The Beautiful Scientist;) we dined on Brie stuffed turkey burgers with grilled red onions and granny smith apples, nestled atop warmed ciabatta rolls. For sides we had a green salad, and multigrain tortilla chips with our choice of peach salsa, and a mango habanero salsa. The mango habanero salsa is to die for, the brand is "Mrs. Renfro's," I highly recommend it!

We sat around and laughed and laughed, as friends are wont to do. We looked at pictures of boys on Facebook, and I love that we can see pictures of hot men and make statements like, "But he's Mormon, such a waste," and "he's gay," and after moving to the next picture that is quickly followed with, "and apparently a bottom." Note: the aforementioned quotes were all a reference to the same person. We listen to Travis discuss the tumults of a committed relationship, and Steve and I discuss that we're bitter after breakups, but being single can be fantastic. We talk about the State of the Union Address, the Grammy's and the adjective "faggoty" is used by Trav, and then me (I don't recommend using this word unless you are in the comfort of close-gay company, and they use it first.)

Eventually the frozen Jr. Mints come out, and there is one more glass of wine to be had. I love my friends, and the ones that I have are the best. I can tell them anything, and they tell me what I need to hear. It was a fantastic evening, and I realized that it was probably better than any date ever could be.