As things look a bit down in the realm of love, it makes me wonder whether all those broken chain letters are to blame.
Take a minute to imagine how much better things would be if we really were kissed by our crush the second Friday after sending letters to 50 of our closest friends on home-made papyrus parchment that smells faintly of freesia and rosemary.
Rather than writing these letters or as I like to call them, chances for true love, my mind can't help but wander to a far away place where all chain letters were strictly adhered to, I'm married with 12 children whose names are all variations of Mallory (Malloriah, Mallobeth, Mallory-Tim, Mallory-Tom, Prince Mallory etc.), and sour patch kids fall from the sky.
Is this simply a case of coulda woulda shoulda, or is it really a coincidence that all my crushes died horrible deaths and I got cancer after I ignored the many received chain letters. It is hard to say whether anyone really knows the truth behind the severe threats embedded in chain letters sent today, but a girl can dream.
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