This missive is extended out of pure courtesy, milady.
Prepare to be wooed.
I have surveyed my sprawling Dorkdom, from The Sea of Insecurity to Mt. Doubt. From Anxiety Wood to that large bluff which I have yet to name. You know. The one with the spruce patch. Wait. No, that's Spruce Bluff. AT ANY RATE, I have dispatched wolves into the wilderness and falcons into the sky. I have urged prairie dogs into the ground and dolphins into the vast deep and all have returned to me bearing the same tidings:
"That chick seems pretty fucking cool."
Therefore, I must advise you, said pretty fucking cool chick, that wooing is imminent. The force of my woo gathers like a storm. A big, wooey storm. Or something.
You are standing at the foot of the mountain of my admiration and desire, and down that slope is rumbling an AVALANCHE OF WOO! A...woovalanche, if you will.
There is a phrase that people use to express enthusiasm. That phrase is "woo-hoo". Well, I see that phrase as a question, and you as the answer!
John Woo is not a good film director. However, his last name is Woo, and that is why I just mentioned him.
Woo.
Alright, I couldn't think of anything else to write for a second, so I just wrote the word "Woo" all by itself. Still, can you blame me? I am woozy with woo.
Or maybe I'm just tired. Anyway, it's nice to be preoccupied by someone who's woo-worthy. Hypothetically. In the world of this blog. I don't write about personal stuff here ever.
Posted on March 02, 2005 |