My friend Mrs. G over at Derfwad Manor revealed last week that her lovely daughter, Miss G, had turned seventeen years old... or what I like to call "marryin' age". I'd like to propose a little blog-promissary and suggest we betrothe Miss G to Saucy's very own Buddy. I used my mad PhotoShop skills to help everyone visualize just how wonderful this union could be. Aren't they just adorable?
And so, to build a case for this deranged marriage, let me just say that Miss G, you saucy little feminist, you'll fit right in around here. I come from a long line of feminists. Even post-feminism feminists. The best kind.
If you marry my Buddy, both Mrs. G and I will have the peace-of-mind in knowing that our eldest children have good mother-in-laws. You have no idea how important this is. But trust me, it's a whopper.
Plus, if you marry a Canadian, you can apply for dual-citizenship status and just imagine what that can do for you at tax-time and when declaring goods purchased on either side of the border.
Your lovely red hair and fair complexion would blend so nicely with the dormant red-hair gene that our family carries. Why, both of Buddy's great-grandparents had lovely red hair... I'm sure Mrs. G would be very happy knowing that her grandchildren would likely be cute little carrot-topped ragamuffins.
And now for the soft sell:
Have you seen how cute Buddy Budderson is? Downright handsome. And that hair. He has it styled by my gay hairdresser. You have to love a guy who's been going to a gay hairdresser since he was two.
Oh, and sweeeeet! He is the sweetest. He gave me a guitar for Christmas, just so we could spend more time together. He is unfailingly patient when trying to teach his little sister and I music. We jam the blues and recently he helped me master "The One Note Song". Most of the time, he is perched on the end of the couch, plucking away at some classical piece that he's trying to master. And on a practical note, he has high score in "Guitar Hero".
We lived in a golf course community when he was just fourteen years old, and he scampered out and got a job on the greens. He can rake a bunker in six minutes, flat. He spent all of his earnings on a trip to Italy with my best friend and her husband when he was fifteen. He loves to travel. And you can travel, too, back and forth between your Mom and Dad's place and here, where you will live part-time.
I homeschooled him for a time during high school and after we were done and he went back to the regular school system he announced that he learned more from me during one semester of homeschooling than a whole year of "PLAIN SCHOOL"... don't you love somebody who says "plain school"? Oh, and he wanted to go back to homeschooling. Cool. I still kicked his butt back to plain school. But homeschooling is another thing you two have in common.
He loves music. Good music. Mostly I can be credited for this. When he was just a little gaffer, I forbade any "kiddie muzak" (ie. Barney) to be played under my roof. Consequently, he was just two years old when we went to his first rock concert (Tom Cochrane). He boogied down in his OshKosh overalls to "Life is a Highway". Later, we went on lots of concert dates together during my years as a single mom. We saw Weird Al Yankovic, The Tragically Hip, The Barenaked Ladies and Great Big Sea. I also made him open doors for me, pull up a chair for me and slipped him cash to pay the bill at restaurants. He also has excellent manners and his teachers from the plain school often make comments on his report card like, "you are a pleasure to teach", "you are courteous and respectful" and "you make insightful observations regarding literature." Reading is sexy.
He is 5 feet, 10 inches tall. He's had all of his dental work done, including his wisdom teeth taken out, so you'd never have to worry about a dental claim on your group insurance. He has an awesome tee shirt collection. His favourite subjects are chemistry and biology, and music. His favourite colour is orange (just like Frank Sinatra) and he is learning to play the ukelele. What more could a girl want?
I anxiously await your response.