by Thornshackle

Created on: November 13, 2009

Gah! There it goes again. I can't seem to hold onto love, and it isn't for a lack of trying. I even went so far as to buy a few gizmos I saw late night on T.V. during the there's-nothing-on-but-infomercials time frame between one o'clock in the morning, and thirty minutes past dawn. Such clever little devices range from viewer goggles, so that I can actually see love, to catch-and-hold gloves, because the ad claimed that love is a slippery something or other. I even bought the Love Shack, which is supposed to be the love version of the roach motel, with the exception that it doesn't kill love, it just traps it long enough for a person of average intelligence to figure out what to do with it. According to the instructions on the love shack, that time frame is about seventy-two hours; which tells me that I must therefore be a person of reduced intelligence after all, because it has so far taken me all of five days to figure out what to do with love once caught, but by that time, love had died. So I had recorded in my Love Journal that captured love has a life span of about five days. I then wrote a note to the love shack company stating that I could not figure out what to do with captured love within three days, and because of that, they should for future customers change the time allotment, while letting others know that captured love has but a five day lifespan. They got back to me with "You are a moron, of clearly limited intelligence; ha, ha, ha, ha." So that was the last time I used the Love Shack. I'm not letting some ill conceived love catcher insult my intelligence. No sir!

From then on I decided to stick with just those items I could carry around with me like the Love At First Sight goggles, and the Catch-And-Hold gloves, which I have dubbed "the Mitts", because they look like those big, cumbersome arctic mittens worn by explorers, military radar repair technicians, and winter car wash attendants alike; except that these "mitts" have suction cups on the fingers which vibrate to supposedly woo love into a state of compliance. I'm here to say however that love is anything but compliant. Another time I caught love for any reasonable amount of time I couldn't keep up with it to save my life. Firstly let me back up a little bit and explain the physical dynamics of love. Love looks a lot like a centipede; with a head like a hawk; ears like a bunny; claws like the giant tree sloth (as opposed to the Great Midwestern sofa sloth); wings like a pterodactyl; a

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