So for Valentine's Day Kelley and I ate more delicious Indian food than you can shake a stick at, then went to the pub where we drank a few pints of Fullers ESB (yum yum yum yum yum) and then I couldn't resist the beef and vegetable pot pie. (K had something disgusting stuffed with goat cheese, shudder--though it did seem to please her.) We talked about life, the universe and everything and played guessing games about the people around us (lot of groups of men, for some reason, one or two pairs of straight girls looking eccentric with hats like flower pots--hats, inside, no wonder they don't have sweeties) then went home and ate chocolate souffle, drank tea, and watched Dollhouse.
Dollhouse was extraordinarily disappointing. It had none of the wit and verve of Whedon's other shows--not a single joke. Blimey. Quite depressing. So then we watched BSG, and it was full of talking heads. Nothing happened. Just yak yak yak philosophy, yak yak yak god, yak yak yak oh the ship has a crack in it. No fucking jokes there, either. Tuh. What a load of cobblers.
And then we ate some more. Hey, if three square meals a day are good for a person, four must be better.
Later, in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about the notion of a love potions. I literally couldn't stop. So now I have the plot for a movie all laid out in my head, and I think I'm going to write it. And yes, shit will blow up! Blam! There will be fabulously hot sex! Sizzle! Moments of comedy. Brief (very, very brief) moments of angst. Drama! A ticking clock... Oooh, it'll be fun.
And after all the beer and sugar and movie-building, I don't even have a hangover. I think 2009 is going to be a very good year.