Thursday, June 01, 2006

This would be a good country song.

Y'all know I love Mr. Man harder than a goat loves a stump, right? I love that big ole 6’2” man so much it really borders on unhealthy. I’m just about one “I love you” away from needing a support group of some kind. As much as I don’t want to and as hard as I try not to from time to time, I’m head over heels in mad love with my mister and I know that no matter how much time passes, I’ll be stupid over him for all eternity.

That’s gross, isn’t it? I’m ashamed of myself for even telling you. I feel all dirty and awkward right now, like you just walked in my living room and caught me watching Tracy Goldman & Nancy McKeon in a Lifetime Movie of the Week.

You know what else I love? My thesaurus! As I’ve said many times, I appreciate anyone who uses a nine syllable word when a one syllable one would do just as well. There is something wonderfully pretentious about a word snob.

So I asked myself, “Sadie,” which is the only thing I’ll answer to when the question comes from inside my own head, “Sadie, how can you combine your love of Mr. Man and your thesaurus?”

And then I raised my hand, and went “Oooo-ooooo-ooooo! I know, I know! A love letter to Mr. Man using my thesaurus!”

Color me with your gifted crayon.

Dear Mr. Chap,

How do I feel affection for thee? Let me calculate the ways.

The first point in time I saw you, my blood-pumping organ nearly ruptured. You had the most beautiful centers of the storm I had ever seen. Even more importantly, you had a sense of hilarity just like mine. It meant so much that you and I expressed amusement at all the same things. I was enticed without delay.

But, my blood-pumping organ wasn’t yours yet. It wasn’t until you quoted the bard Maya Angelou and flooded me with Ridiculous String that I began to realize I might want to spend the rest of my existence with you.

Who wouldn’t want to wed a male that is both asinine and intellectual?

My Dearest, I adore you. The way you grin, your stench, the way you kiss me in the cock-crow before you go to employment. You mean the globe to me and zilch… I mean absolutely naught in Heaven or on Earth could slit me away from you. I would sooner shear off my correct arm than to ever mislay you.

I love that letter between T & V.

Your dutiful consort,
Sadie Bear

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