A couple weeks ago, I spied my friend Rosa's new water bottle and gasped, sputtering out that I was wildly jealous of her and that I wanted one, too. She smiled and laughed and said "Oh Phil, you're so cute. They're from my friend's old clothing company, and I have more if you want one." Like she even had to ask. Then last week, she showed up to class and there it was, glowing in her hands. With the exception of the day I forgot it and almost died from separation anxiety, my new water bottle and I have been inseparable.

Most people get it, but every now and again someone completely misses the point. The point being, of course, why I love this water bottle more than life itself.

Brad Majors*: Is this your water bottle? Female Coworker: No. Brad: Oh. Whose is it? Phil: It's mine. Brad: Oh ok. You know what that word means, don't you? Phil: ... Brad: But it refers to a fancy woman. Really fancy, like. Phil: Uh, yeah I know. Phil: ... Phil: It's mine!

And when you take pictures of it, it really does lend itself to an almost angelic quality.

Divalicious

*The name Brad Majors shall heretofore refer to a straight man who happens to fall into conversation with me, whose name I opt not to identify. It shall serve as a generic name and be used for any person I see fit. For no real reason other than because I can.