Last night at dinner, as the waiter was bringing our cocktails, he asked, “And are you two having a wonderful Valentine’s Day?”

There was about a two-second pause before stee and I said at the same time, “No.”

The waiter said, “Well, then here are your drinks, and I’ll just keep them coming.”

Taylor spent the night in the emergency room, drinking his juice. I’ve been up for hours because I had to spring him this morning, and I couldn’t sleep because I’m used to him waking me up every thirty minutes from five in the morning until seven. Yes, that’s right. I couldn’t sleep because I’m used to not being able to sleep, and it was bothering me that I’d be allowed to sleep because for the first time in our nine years together I’m in my home sleeping and Taylor isn’t.

They’re still trying to regulate his glucose levels, and seemingly nothing is keeping Taylor from getting a touch of the sugar. So I’ve been bummed out and worried and sad because nine years ago Valentine’s Day I got Taylor and now he’s dealing with needles and IV’s and boy does he hate going to the vet.

Sitting here stalling, waiting for the other vet’s office to open, I stumbled upon this old entry: The Debate. For those of you who are new to pamie.com, it’s the infamous “suck it or fuck it” debate that still has friends shaking their heads at each other. I hadn’t read it in years, and it made me laugh all over again. I still remember one night at the Bad Dog Comedy Theatre when the debate got particularly heated, and I think it was Becca who asked, all disgusted and resigned: “Can’t I just let it play with my titties?”

So for those of you who had a crap Valentine’s day and could use a dirtydirtydirty laugh, this one’s for you.