Ah, Valentine’s Day.

I suppose it’s as good a time as any to formally announce I’ve somehow managed to land an actual girlfriend. She’s biologically female, sane, responsible, smart, witty and so attractive she makes me pretty much legally retarded when I’m around her. (Seriously. When she answered the door the last time I visited, all I could think to say was “ICE CREAM!”) I am gratuitously, sickeningly, shockingly nuts about her. Inexplicably, she feels the same way about me.

Of course, if I’m going to blog blogs on my blog about our adventures, she needs a nom du Internet. Long-time readers of RiF and RRC know the folks in my neighborhood—Uck, Spike, Miss Black, my traveling companions, Cookie and Jens. My girlfriend needs a moniker, too. We discussed it over coffee last Sunday. That’s how much of a dork I am. I was compelled to discuss with my actual flesh and blood girlfriend what Internet name she would like while we sat in her real, actual living room. I’ve called her Missy D, Hamslice, Hamsizzle, Hamslizzle, and a bunch of sweety-poopy-moopy-doopy-type names, but nothing seems to stand out. I’d open it up to the floor, but I don’t think she’d appreciate a nickname like “You Poor, Poor Woman.” So, until I can come up with something better, I’m going to call her MK. You got that? My girlfriend is MK.

Back to Valentine’s Day.

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