Thursday, January 12, 2006

Excuse me "secret agent"?

Well, the time has finally come for someone to address all of the secret agent ninjas roaming around. How can I tell that they are secret agent ninjas, you ask? The answer is elementary: they all wear ridiculously huge and gaudy sunglasses. Why have girls decided to don those clown glasses. I realize that their favorite stupid whores of Hollywood (i.e. Paris Hilton etc.) wear them, but does that mean that we all have to suffer? Let me tell you ladies what those glasses do for you. They show me and the rest of your peers, that you like being detached from the world. You like appearing expressionless and cold. Say I'm the man of your dreams, the man that you've kept your legs crossed for, and the man for whom you've retained your virginal pedals (I know it's ridiculous, but stay with me on this one). As I walk towards you, beams of light dance across the ground in front of me, spelling out the word "love" in huge bubbly letters and in place of the "O" lies a heart shape. I see you and send you a very cordial hello accompanied by a moderate smile. Seeing that even the sun knows that this meeting is not random coincidence, but indeed has been fortuitously ordained by the gods, you send an equally cordial hello and genuine smile back to me. I dismiss your greeting and think nothing of it. Why did I do this? Why did I deprive you of true love and the gods of their cosmic opportunity to reach a state of otherworldly drunkenness at their bi-weekly marriage celebration? The answer is this: I simply could not decipher if your smile was genuine or not. But why couldn't I, you ask? It's very simple. When you smile genuinely, tiny muscles near the outside of your eyes and above your cheeks contract causing little wrinkles to form just outside of your eyes (between your eye and your ear). Not being able to see these muscle contractions I dismiss your smile as insincere. So what's the moral of the story? If you want the man of your dreams (me, for the purposes of this story) to uncross your legs and give you excruciating joy, lasting an entire 8 hours: lose the glasses and let me see those beautiful gems... that or use my face to play boob-bongos on your chest. I'm pretty sure that would work too.

End Transmission.

No comments: