"I am a slut."

03/14/2001

While I'm certain that many of you are currently caught somewhere between smirking and the need to change your underpants, I'm equally certain your universal joviality is for the wrong reason. For you see, I speak not of sex, alcohol or other baser human appetites. (Although Vicky did call me a "framboise slut" and not without good reason, I might add.) The object of my slutitude is not generally thought of as morally or physically damaging. No, gentle reader, this is an altogether different facet of my slut-crystal. The good part is, not only is it legal in all 50 states, but dealers for this particular flavor of consumer crack can be found everywhere from malls to truckstops. I am, of course, speaking of sunglasses. What were you thinking?! (Nevermind... I don't think I want to know.) It's always worse in the springtime too. Some young men's fancy turns to love, I turn to fasionable outdoor eyewear. Ahhhh... colored ovals of glass or plastic encased in finely, mass-produced metal or plastic frames staring in all directions from their display stand tower of power. Proudly poised two by two like little rainbow soliders ready to fight to the death for the safety of our eyes against the evil UV Ray's of Sunshineland! Patiently watching and waiting for the unsuspecting, the uninitiated... the guliable. Me.

Okay, here is where I stop and wonder if I need a 12-step program to deal with my tendancies to turn a simple sentance like "I bought cheap sunglasses for $5 this week." into a grand epic tale of good versus evil.

Sunglasses. Uh huh. Wait until you see your latest gift from me. ~ Danicia @ 8:45 p.m. EST on 03/14/2001