Thursday, March 31, 2011

The Cynic's Sanctuary

Apparently, someone has come up with the wonderful idea of creating a sanctuary for the cynics. Really? Are we that few that we'd require a place of asylum? Or are we just that crazy?

This site has a list of 714 Things to be cynical about. I say they add one more.

715. lists of things to be cynical about

Sunday, March 27, 2011

On Broken Hearts

Dear Dr. Jeanne,
Do you have something to kure a brokin hart? I fell in luv with a boy, but he don’t luv me bak. This boy, he luv someone els. Wen I see them together, I feel a emptynes in my chest. How can emptyness hurt? Mine doz. Do you have something four my ake?
Yours truly,

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Breakfast Toast Killers

I know why I never get asked on Breakfast Dates. They fear my toast.


Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Dr. Jeanne's niece

Hello, my dear friends.
I found a note that my niece left under the lamp on my writing table. Perhaps she never meant it to be found. Yet, I like to dust and keep things in order so I did find it. Here, I'll include it.

In my niece's hand:

Somedays I miss you in my life. I know we've never met, but I want to love you. I know that I love you already. Some mornings, I wake and I feel as though you were there holding me. Yet, when I fully wake, I know that you were never with me in my small twin bed. Do you know that loneliness? I hate it, but it is mine for this time.

Now, don't judge me for having shared this note with you. However, it just struck a cord with me. These young girls yearning after love.

Dr. Jeanne

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

a guy of gargantuan size zooms by on a motorcycle that growls its presence. why is that okay?

"Dude, do you really think you're B.A.? So you're going to prove it to the world by driving an uber loud motorcycle that can't even survive your muffin top. Have a nice day."

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Odious Men

The other day would have been just fine if wasn’t for men. Yes, I was dressed nicely, but not like a slut. Honestly, I was minding my own business and having a nice dinner with my father. So I’m sitting there and I glance at my father and catch a man in the next booth over looking at me. His eyes burned into me. At first, I just looked away hoping that he wasn’t looking at me like a piece of meat. I tried to enjoy the meal.

This man sat with his family. His beautiful wife desperately tried to manage the children while her husband mentally molested another woman (and people wonder why I’m bitter towards men). Sitting there, I felt sick to my stomach. How dare this dork of a human being sit with his family while subjecting another woman to his odious stare.

Sure to be wanted is thrilling, but to be undressed by a man’s eyes while he sits with his family (wife and three kids) is repulsive. Sadly, I didn’t castrate him. All I did was leave the restaurant.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

A Letter on Romance

My Dear Friends,

I do adore a good romance. Currently, you find me in the midst of a delightful book entitled Quo Vadis by Henryk Sienkiewicz. Since my lovely authoress, Jane Austen, I have not found a romance quite as fulfilling as her works. Miss Austen has a way of working the nuances of romance novels in a way that a modern day author lacks. I suppose the modern author fits the modern audience that wants a quick one night stand. However, for the few of us who treasure the true budding romance, Quo Vadis is exactly that.

Mr. Sienkiewicz develops his characters slowly in a way that imitates a cat stretching after a long delicious nap in the sunshine. His description of setting is luscious. Each word crafted into the paragraph chosen for quality and fit. Although I love his writing style, it is the way in which Mr. Sienkiewicz develops his romance that enthralls me. Every moment is painstakingly puzzled together. Mr. Sienkiewicz spares no expense of thought to better create a story that is eloquently told.

This is the type of romance that I live for, dear friends. A romance that buds slowly when no one is looking entrances those who suddenly turn to see a goblet over-flowing with sweet water. In stretching the mind to recall the exact moment when this love started dripping into the cup, no one can recall. However, the more gradual the love, the more brilliant it is. Gradual love is rooted in the depths of the soul that none can see.

Dear friends, how can we not love such beauty!

Dr. Jeanne