| Gráinne |
02-10-2013 09:43 AM |
Quote:
Originally Posted by Ciaran
(Post 746208)
I believe in total honesty so here's the deal.
You're an attractive lady and we share a mutual love of beer and football (that's "soccer" to most of the folk on this board as they don't speak proper English). However, you're not marriage material for me. Not at all.
Any why is that? Because, despite your beauty and cuteness, whenever I think of you I cannot get an image out of my mind of you playing the tambourine with some hippy band in an Irish bar one late, drunken night in Manila. That one moment left me emotionally scarred. There's something incredibly sordid, vulgar even, about that image of shaking the tambourine with willful abandon .... to make matters worse, I don't even think it was in tune with their Mr Tambourine Man song.
I'm starting to feel sick even thinking back to then but, in summary:
- Marriage Material? No
- Mistress Material? Sure thing.
Mistresses have more fun anyway ..... well, that's what they tell me
Gráinne
Our decades are shaped by mere moments. Had you not disclosed the Cl***land thing, then you'd soon by Mrs Ciaran and I'd have bought you a really nice apron and some trendy kitchenware (in fact, already ordered via Amazon - anyone want it at a discount?).
That said, the Cl***land thing would have come out eventually so best to avoid the heartbreak further down the line. I will try hard not to hold this vulgarity against you but I'm not sure if I will be able to, esp. with the baseball season starting soon.
|
I do not know whether to be flattered at your significant investment in my domestic skills, or ticked off at the Betty Crocker image I've somehow fostered. I see how it is-my name doesn't come to mind after the sentence: "People likely to stay out until stupid o'clock at an Irish bar dancing/karaoke-ing/banging a tambourine/whatever".
Clearly, I have gone awry in your perception of me.
I am as hardy as the winter winds blowing in that d*** stadium on the lake. We who call ourselves natives of Cl***land get used to the gasps, "Noooo's", and backing away at the mere mention of the C-word. Maybe it's DiMaggio's record being broken, or the time the city couldn't pay its own bills, or the Cuyahoga River catching on fire, or the genius who put giant tanks of natural gas in a residential neighborhood, we have surely seen it all. But just to show no hard feelings from the almost-Mrs. Ciaran, I will prepare a kielbasa with your name on it.
*dances away with my best half-polka/half-jig* |
