So, some of you may be wondering if I am going to have a fun time talking about a past love life, or the history of Single’s Awareness Day (S.A.D.). SADly, I am not. I carry no special interest in the inane ritual of buying decorative, non-edible plants, setting them in a glass prison, and watch them be slowly tortured to death. Some may argue that the flowers are already dead before they are placed on display, and by buying them you give them a sensitive way to go, I must decline to pay twenty dollars to endorse the uprooting of these beautiful beasts. I would like to go back to a day when the wild roses and daisies roamed free, grazing in the meadows…
On the other hand, I will talk about that plot by the corporate America to sell hordes of brown milky goodness to consumer America. This is a genius ploy, connecting the luscious, so-called semi-sweet, but really completely sweet mini-sensations to the joys of romance. I’ve even seen an advertisement implying that chocolate is better than sex, which I just have to accept as fact. I completely agree that, after the act of making love, eating a thick bar of Godiva would probably be strange. The idea of plopping a small chocolate into your lover’s mouth seems very romantic, though.
As the sun goes down in northern Georgia, I wonder how many other singles are out there, and, if there is one right for me, then CALL ME. I’ve been waiting for you for seventeen years… but I can wait longer.
Maybe, once I get a nice cult following, with people emailing me images of my house and threatening me, I’ll release more of my private life, but until then, I’ll keep it shallow, slamming this most unlikeable day.