I met a girl

I'm on Cloud 9, I tell you, dancing on air. I met a girl -- a terrific, sexy, not-too-too-obese girl. She was sitting at the bar the other night eating a ton of potato chips. I sat next to her. "Do you like potato chips?" I asked her. "Yef," she mumbled through a mouthful of deep-fried goodness. What a coincidence, I told her, I love potato chips, too. And that was just the beginning of the list of things we had in common. Like I, she enjoys running really fast and erratically at unexpected and impractical times -- not for exercise, mind you, but for fun. We both look at airplanes in the sky and try to will them to crash. We both are allergic to green vegetables, goose dander, and hard work. We both have been diagnosed with von Flabflauchflisen's disease; we both were rejected from eHarmony; we both pretend to like the outdoors, but secretly hate it; we both loathe Scandanavians; we both were polevaulters on our high school track teams; and we both really love cutting our own hair. This meeting was set up by the Gods. I'll have more on this later.