Spending time with documentaries and onesies: Valentine's Day

Not unsurprisingly, I am entirely ambivalent about Valentine's Day. Not bitter, not angry about consumerism, not miserable, nor loved-up, but entirely ambivalent. It's surely just another day, made into a giant beast of pink and red trash which results in a whole load of disappointment, not least when you walk past reduced boxes of Milk Tray and bunches of roses. Why the hell should I contribute when I am, in general, a well-rounded and happy person?

So, as a result, I carried on as if it wasn't happening. Spent a few hours on a train with some mini eggs and postmodern literature, got home, got into a ONESIE and watched the latest VBS documentary about heroin addicts in Swansea. The perceptive of you out there would appreciate two links in the last sentence. That's because there are two really ace things in it.

Yes, the onesie dream has finally come true. Months of wishing, hoping and dreaming has resulted in around 300 grams of ribbed jersey pleasure, making me feel like a giant baby able to conquer the world. It was only fair that I spent Valentine's night with it. If Bowlface was a style blog, which would involve me:

a) having far more hair
b) having far less podge
c) being given free clothes
d) feeling comfortable with taking photos of myself and writing about them

then I'd post the photo taken in pure joy and excitement by my buddy in the American Apparel changing room.

However, none of the above apply, so you'll have to make do with the previous link. That's clearly what I look like in it. The till-man asked repeatedly if I 'could rock it', which I don't quite understand, but yeah, I'm in love with it, and turned down drinks last night just so the onesie and I could have a little more special time.

The other bit of ambivalent romance came in the form of the aforementioned Swansea Love Story. I remember trying to look at the photos of this on the library computers a little while back. They were so awesome they made the computer crash. I don't even want to know what watching this on them would do...possibly corrupt the entire university network with its brutal honesty and load of cool that the average Newcastle type probably wouldn't know what to do with. Then I'd get a massive fine and wouldn't be able to pay it and not graduate. So yeah, watch, get a onesie, and stay away from the library.