Romance is in the air like a cloud of post nuclear holocaust radiation, but not as deadly. It's springtime in America, a time for renewal and growth. It’s also the most romantic time of the year. The birds and the bees dance among the blooming flowers and the lightly dewed baby grass, while anal lube and sex toy profits skyrocket, boosting the lagging economy and giving schools more money for extracurricular activities that will keep kids off crack and murdering you in your sleep. As the snow melts away from our hearts and into our bladder making us have to pee every five minutes, we are reminded of the love that was once was and shall be again. This is the time when the passionate game is played where the male relentlessly chases his female of choice while she plays hard to get while batting her eyelashes and giggling. While the invention of the chloroform soaked rag has made this game much easier, it is still a lovers tradition that is as old as we can remember. A little drop of Rohypnol can never hurt as well.
I know I dish out a lot of advice in my articles, but it is only because of my vast experience in every area of human existence. I am not saying outright that I am a immortal Highlander that has lived more lives than you can hope to imagine, but I'm not denying it either. Lets just say that I've been around the block, if you know what I mean, and I think you do. If you have ever found yourself burying a dead hooker with the Rat Pack while hopped up on goofballs, then I'll start taking advice from you asap. Meanwhile, let us continue this loosely assembled rambling article about love before I lose track of what I'm doing and start recounting my tales as an undying Scotsman.
They call this progress?
Technology has changed the way men and women are finding each other to perform awkward, sweaty, mating rituals, yet the psychology behind the courting system still remains the same. Just like in nature, males still are the initiators of the contact, urged on by the sinking feeling of loneliness after beating Megaman III for the 100th time and the constant nagging erection in their drawers. Women still use bright and shiny objects to attract the attention of the male, but now it's in the form of extravagantly decorated website with animated gifs and midi's of the Dawson's Creek theme song. Males will compete against each other for the fancy of the young women by bombarding her with instant messages of "omg u r hott wanna cyber?". The male that is most persistent and can Photoshop his head on Brad Pitt's body will win the female, as the herd of prospective males head to the next geocites or livejournal site and the cycle of life continues. The human species will continue to adapt in this manner to keep up with the new and exciting ways to find love.
This is true love.
Girls are really soft but totally crazy.
It's a fact. Girls are really soft and smell like flowers, but are also nuttier than three dollar bill that is also made out of peanuts. It's a dilemma that has always plagued men and can be summed up by a famous quote "can't live with them, can't live without them" from the philosopher Confucius whose nagging wife drove him mad in 479 BC. Scientists have proven that women are a cement mixer full of hormones that may cause random irrational behavior at anytime of the day. This may put a strain on one's relationship from time to time, and many males who are new to this fascinating side of the female gender may become frightened and flee. The key is to come to terms with these unchangeable facts of nature, and work with it. If this means going out and getting ice cream and pizza in during a volcano eruption while she's having PMS, then you do it with no questions asked. If she wants to you crawl naked across broken glass and then assassinate her ex-boyfriend with a crossbow, consider it done. Trust me fellas, don't rage against the female machine or you'll find yourself neck deep in a fire anthill covered in chocolate syrup and acid. If you sail calmly over those hormonal swells in the female ocean, the rest can be smooth and relaxing currents that will take you to a tropical island with coconuts and monkeys. And the monkeys talk and can breakdance.
Sex: Highway to the danger zone. Goose dies.
Our bodies are designed for three things. Eating, going potty, and sex. While the first two are relatively easy unless you eat a lot of cheese, sex is a very complicated matter that takes up a lot of our time. Not only are males always seeking to satisfy their natural urge to make millions of babies everyday, there are many potential ill consequences in any sexual encounter. Since crazy sexual behavior like those harlots on "Girls Gone Wild" is considered a sin, horrible sexually transmitted diseases were created to punish us naughty humans. Diseases like Syphilis, Chlamydia, Gonorrhea, Herpes, and AIDS have ravaged our extremely horny nation. While they may have festive, fun sounding names, they are very serious business and often incurable. These quickly put a stop to the free love generation of the 60's, and caused those hippies to slap their pants on and give any potential partner a battery of tests. So wear your condoms you crazy sex-crazed kids, and don't share Pez dispensers.
|"We'll take an order of wing dings and a wedding to go please."|
The ultimate American love invention: The drive thru wedding chapel.
The greatest American invention ever has to be the drive through window. I mean, I can get whatever I want and I don’t even have to leave my car. If I could get a toilet installed in my car seat I don’t think I’d ever get out. “Quick and easy” is the American motto, and the same now goes for weddings. Instead of sitting through those long, boring ceremonies full of bible mumbo jumbo, and drawn out silly traditions, you can just sit in your car and have the whole thing done in a few minutes. Some progressive drive thru wedding chapels even give you and order of curly fries once you are married. America is truly the land of romance.
I apologize for the brevity and sloppiness of this article but I am sad to report that I am going through a crisis on the home front right now that is even bigger than when my roommate got rabies. I promise next time there will be balloons and ice cream. Bye for now!
Sir Mix-a-Lot's classic follow up to "Baby Got Back" has serious unintended consequences.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
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