Every six months or so Sed does a stint on the night shift. When that rotation falls across a romantic holiday, I feel pretty ripped off. Far be it from me to embrace pink construction paper hearts and fat babies flying around shooting people with arrows, but deep inside I really do crave the sappy warmth of an evening in front of the fire, sipping champagne and staring into each other's eyes.

Lucky for me, she doesn't have to leave for work until about 6:15. Which leaves me two options: pick up takeout on my way home or use my retained restaurant skills to get real food on the table fast. One of these is more impressive and heartfelt, at least to my wife.

I'm proud to say that we dined well. Porterhouse steak with merlot sauce, stuffed mushrooms, roasted asparagus, and chocolate zabaglione with strawberries. OK, so I made the dessert yesterday, but still, everything was on the table inside of 20 minutes. Suck on that, Rachael Ray.

And the reaction? Let's just say if she didn't have to work tonight, I'd totally be getting laid right now. Wassup, Internet.