A friend of mine recently sent me this humorous cartoon, evidently seeing parallels between the comic strip and my nonexistent dating life. Such a kidder he is (who should be thankful I don’t live close by as I would have kicked the little bastard snot in the face.)

First of all, it’s not nearly accurate (I have a much bigger pillow), but besides that, when is it ever cool to poke fun at someone’s misery, unless it’s me doing the poking? That’s just wrong on so many levels.

What really irks me though is the fact that this poor kid in the cartoon can only dream about meeting his soulmate (particularly over the Internet), and yet people I know have met the love of their lives in much the same way, only in their case it was for real.

Would you really hold it against me then if I hoped the earth would open up and release a Cloverfield type monster that was designed for no other purpose than to crash their wedding? Just the thought of it chewing up the bride and spitting the little whore-slut out in bitty bits while the groom can only look on in horror…. Whoo! It just makes me tingle with warm fuzzlies, ya know?

My ass.

I recently saw the movie Blood Diamond, which provided just a small glimpse into the violent world of diamond trade, and I tell ya, it’s enough to make me never want to buy a diamond for as long as I live.

Honestly, I never understood it’s appeal. It’s a rock. A bloody useless friggin’ rock. It does nothing except to prove just how utterly vain and shallow women (especially American women) are. A man’s love for such a girl is worth nothing to her unless he goes out and recklessly spends $5000 on a piece of sparkling rock (from which human blood may have been shedded for), something she’ll probably never wear anyway except on special occasions. That’s money that could pay bills, be used to buy nice clothes, or for taking a really sweet vacation to Prague.

I dunno, maybe it’s just me, but it just seems criminal to spend that kind of money on a piece of bling bling that won’t do anything except make some girl look good (sometimes). It’s certainly not for the guys, that’s for sure. I can’t even tell a diamond from a zirconia, so what do I give two flying leaps what kind of jewelry some two-bit ho bag from uptown is sporting?

If a girl truly thinks diamonds are her best friend, then she’ll never be any friend of mine. You feel me, dog?