While editing, I realized I needed to clarify something from my last post.
"home kitchen appliances"
Contrary to popular belief, I do not hold conversations with inanimate objects.
It's just a term I use to describe friends in a nonsensical manner.

It used to be "home skillet" until one of my other friends pointed out that her father likes to use that term alot.
Bein' a fan of originality, I started opting for the use of "home kitchen appliance".
If only for the customizable opportunities given to us.
I called dibs on "home George Foreman grill" already.

Heading back to editor mode.
Some of you actually figured out the e-mail option.
Which, more or less, has inspired me to try to get more of my writings out there.
Including select pieces from my dating manual.
'Cuz apparently I'm holding seminars now.

One of my home kitchen appliances pointed out that my dating life is a mess.
In retrospect, I laugh because she might be onto something.
Consider this a filler post until I organize that & my writings.

I identify with this piece, go figure.

Beau Sia - Love

I think love is the most beautiful thing in the world
And I don't give a fuck
I have no original ideas.

I recite poetry to get women to fall in love with me.
Women who hear this:
FALL IN LOVE WITH ME!

That's what it comes down to
Life or death.
Jesus, I've seen a man jack off to a GAP window display
Don't tell me that love isn't important
Because love isn't easy.
In fact, it's the bane of my existence,
The reason why I hate Valentine's Day and Halloween.
Which is about ghosts.
And I think you know where I'm going here...

I'm going to the land of girlfriends of Halloweens past
And maybe I've only got three ghosts in this land
But this doesn't mean that they don't bring their friends.
Because girls rarely travel alone in this land.

Lydia is from this land.
I used to kiss her while listening to The Cure's "Just Like Heaven"
Now that song makes me sad.
Why must we associate music with our love lives?
I'm not trying to be profound.
I'm just saying that music takes me back.
And I can't explain the memory process involved in that
Because I was not a Psychology major.
And maybe my problem with picking up college-aged women
Has to do with me always asking them:
"Yo shortay! What's your major?"

Maybe I shouldn't look at women in terms of picking them up.
Maybe I should open up my sensitive side.
But really...
The sensitive side sucks.
I've been there.
You can only imagine the kinds of sweaters they make you wear.
It's not fair.
Love is not fair.
And war is not fair.
And I don't care what anyone has to say about any of that.
I feel unloved.

Am I the only one?
I know that I can't be that misunderstood.
But you don't want to understand me.
You just want to hear the part about my small dick again.
'Cuz the Asian man will always be plagued by this RUMOR.
Until he is brave enough to whip it out on stage and say:
"OHH! WE ARE GIGANTIC!!!"

Honestly,
This is not the direction I wanted to take this poem.
I just want to be in the arms of my true love.
In the wonderful, perfect world with our two children:
Helga and Lamar
'Cuz love has got me fucked up and dying.
Because I feel retarded without anyone to hold me.
And maybe that's sentimental.
But what is wrong with sentimental?
All I'm saying is...
Someone.
Love me.