As we all knew (and quite probably ignored), Valentine’s Day came and went last Sunday.

While I’m not a frothing-at-the-mouth anti-Vday lunatic, I do believe that the day was created to take advantage of those blindly in love, laying duty in men’s hearts and desire in women’s, so that gifts are given, plus flowers, plus chocolates, plus a prerequisite card. The blindness of love is a Godsend on this day, because without it, you would see that Hallmark had just yanked the biggest leg of all, pocketing billions upon billions, on this one day.

Having said all that, Valentine’s day does bring happiness to a significant number of people in this world, and no one will question that. Couples are loved up, and singles party on, on what is probably the easiest day of the year to spot fellow singles.

So I don’t hate, not at all.

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I do a lot of my thinking in the shower. I think a lot of people do their best thinking while showering. Except for boys, they do theirs in the loo because trust me, you do not want to know what boys are thinking about when they are showering.

Anyway.

I was thinking the other day. Panu, in all his awesomeness, decided to take me out to dinner at Dinings last Saturday night. I mean, Dinings, guys. It’s one of my favourite restaurants in London and hands-down my favourite Japanese, so y’know, he got brownie points.

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Do you think I blog too much about matcha? No, really. Really? Ok you know what, maybe I do, but this is my blawg, and sometimes I get a little obsessive compulsive from time to time, but that usually passes when the next OMG-delicious-cool thing comes along.

Except I don’t think that’s gonna happen to matcha. Because the more I have it, the more I want it. And scarily, the more I learn about it, the more I realise it’s good for me.

You hear that, Universe? Matcha ice cream is Good. For. Me.

K-O. Catty wins.

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