Dear Smallest Man Ever,

I write this letter to you to ask you a serious question. You see - this year, I have no Valentine. No one to shower my love and kind wishes on, no one to smother under Mrs. Fields cookies bigger than the dead sea.

And then? Then I saw a picture of you.

When I laid my eyes on you - my heart fluttered. They say you weigh 20 pounds and are about 33 inches tall - not even a full 3 feet! And yet - you are a body builder. Let me just say - I can totally tell. Those guns could be the largest I have ever seen, and I have seen a lot of guns in my time. You are truly "manly", and I could use a bit of that in my life right now.

Let me cut to the chase - the point of my spontaneous letter. I really just wanted to know - will you be mine? I was thinking - you are small enough that I could fold you up and put you in my back pocket, which would come in handy - I am positive my brother in law would try to kick you on sight (given his silly notion that kicking midgets makes gold coins fly wildly about - and well - let's be honest - with you, the temptation might be similar), so a quick escape might be necessary, and the back pocket? Well, how cool would that be? And also, I was thinking it would be handy to just whip you out in restaurants or at the movie when I need a date, and then put you away safely for next time.

I mean, just because you are unbelievably small doesn't mean you have a grinch sized heart - I just know it. And as long as we could find something to chat about, I am positive it would be a win-win situation for both of us. Please - - consider my offer. Although, I should advise, it expires at midnight eastern tonight.

With much admiration -

Susieeq

Mwahahahahaha! Just kidding, small-Indian-body-builder-man-with-bleach-blonde-hair.

I saw him in a story on the net today, and thought he was actually quite amazing.

Really though - Valentines Day? I hate thee. Even when I am "attached". WHAT IS WITH the world these days? Why the expectation that something romantic MUST happen? I hate how lame the corporate, Hallmark-esque marketing capitalists (probably all smug married's anyway) try to make you feel when you are single.

So I declare: You can't make me feel bad, oh Valentine Nazi's! I spent the day on the beach today anyway (sssshhhh - don't tell my boss - I was supposed to be working, but the Florida sunshine and Ft. Lauderdale beach was just too appealing). See:

Right then - please note: taken with the crappy cell phone camera, NOT the beloved Canon.

Eff off, Valentines Day. You ain't got nothin' on the beach.