I am still sick, so I don't feel like doing a real post, so I have used my ninja time machine to bring you a love letter that I will write to my future wife at some time in the future.
______________________________
Dearest Future Wife who agreed to marry me without a pre-nup even though you have way more money than me:
Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years ago, my love, on February 14th St. Valentine was beaten to death with clubs and beheaded. To commemorate the occasion I have purchased for you a pair of red crotchless under-bloomers that I would like you to wear in the spirit of this event. I have also purchased for you a dozen of the reddest roses I could find. Yes, I know my love, there is no need for words. I care for you so much that, at my behest, I have had ordered a living plant-creature to be killed for you and I offer you its severed genitals as a token of my love. Although counter-intuitive, the severed genitals are not a veiled threat to ensure your fidelity, but rather a declaration of affection. I can think of no greater way to show you my love, dearest, except to offer you severed plant-creature genitals and then to do passionate sex to you involving sundry positions. Because it's a special occasion, we can even do that subversive woman-on-top position that you like.
Oh my darling, I have traced every inch of you with my hands, my fingers, my palms. I could sculpt you from memory, my love. Every inch of you. I know what you are thinking right now, beloved. You are thinking that watching Rock of Love 2 is futile since Brett Michaels can never fall in love with anyone since he is already in love with himself. But also you are thinking that if you died tomorrow in some kind of freakish accident--of the type that sometimes befalls people who are too much in love--that being able to sculpt an anatomically correct replica of you would be a useful skill to have.
But know this, my darling, I would not do sex to the lump of clay. Even though sometimes you lay there like a lump of clay, my love, the lump of clay is not you and it would therefore be like cheating, or at the very least be squicky, even though it is you--sort of.
No lump of clay, blow-up doll, or even an almost-high-priced call girl could ever replace you, dearest. When I put my mouth on your sex and move my tongue in a left-right-up-down-squiggle-squiggle fashion and variations of such a combination, I know that no other could possibly fake a climax like you do, oh sweetest.
Therefore, I hope that you will enjoy this Valentines day that I have planned for you and that we will remain together forever, or at least until such time as I can appear on my own fox reality TV show involving many attractive desperate women who will shamelessly compete for my affections and air time. After such brief hiatus I will return to loving you devotedly and exclusively.
Happy Valentines Day, Darling!!!
6 comments:
Wow, I cannot wait for a man to describe me like a lump of clay.
Yeah, and I laughed, but if you think woman on top is subversive, than enjoy being married to a republican.
I can only hope that someday I'll know that kind of imaginary love.
lemmonex: I'm sure your future husband is looking forward to that too.
Hillary Fan: No love for the red states?
You can call me, 'Sir': They say it happens when you least expect it...or when you're old and really rich and meet a russian girl half your age.
What a lucky gal she will be. My oh My.
Thank you so much for your comment about Art Whino. I haven't heard much about the show and am extremely curious. I especially appreciate the praise, since you dont normally go for Collage! Rock on.
mcaplan: It's a nice space. Lot's of nice modern art and a nice mix of emerging and established artists. I dug your pieces :)
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