Carrot Cake.  Obviously.

Or.. "Not a Single Fuck Was Given."

I hit six months with the municipal corporation for which I work. If you aren't familiar with what that is, it's a city. Excluding my three days for my surgery, various doctor and dentist appointments, and federally recognized holidays, I have consistently been at work. Until yesterday.

Merry Margarita.

Yesterday, I took a half day after a legal training and met the man for lunch at a nice, ritzy restaurant. It's called Toucan Café, and the owners actually have couple places in town. I think the sister restaurant, Sweet Potatoes, was on Food Network a couple times.

After a fancy lunch? Pedicures and cupcakes. Cupcakes are normally reserved for a Saturday guilty pleasure, but we were killing time for a 3:15 movie. If you've never been to a Gigi's, go. ASAP.  I had the "Merry Margarita" and D, being a ginger, had "Carrot Cake."  I have the tendency of only eating half of the cake itself because all I really want is the frosting.  Oh, and this is one of those places that won't reveal how badly they're killing you.

And then we went to the movies.  I know he really wanted to see the Raven, because we both love suspenseful horror-ish thriller things, but I also wanted to see the Avengers.  I figured a matinee 3D might actually be a cost-efficient idea.  And, man, it was a damn good movie.  I had no idea who the Black Widow or Hawkeye were and asked loudly (he says) if they were the Wonder Twins.  I've since learned that no, I'm an ignoramus.  As badly as this failed the Bechdel Test, it was still an entertaining movie.  I have to give props for women who fight.  And, naturally, I wanted Black Widow to be the best character ever.. but I kind of loved Hulk's character.  "That's my secret:  I'm always angry."