Today I may have joined a cult. This is not the worst thing that has happened this weekend.
The worst thing would be how I managed to sabotage several relationships, which I pretty much do now-days like it’s my jorb. That or how I drunkenly burned all the skin off of the roof of my mouth. This makes eating Pringles very uncomfortable. SO IT IS A TOSS UP.
The worst thing about the cult is not how it cost me $500. (This is a terrible thing, but it is not the worst thing.) The worst thing would be how it is a SELF-ACTUALIZATION cult. They are going to tell me I should be in a fulfilling relationship. We are going to talk about feelings.
I don’t think I want to be in a fulfilling relationship. I really don’t.
Seriously. If I could reproduce asexually I would. Like a mushroom. I would spore out some little bebes and we’d live happily ever after in our little fulfilling fairy ring.
Really fulfilling fairy ring.
That’s chiastic cynghanedd.
Foo!
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