Around Christmas I was introduced to the person I could happily spend the rest of my life with.
However, there are a few obstacles standing in my way:
- She doesn’t have a dick, and neither do I. We’re both straight and fans of the D. But you know, sex isn’t everything.
- I scare her. OK, so I kind of hunted her down on Twitter and made all my friends follow her and proclaim my love to her daily. I did her an audioboo, now I’m writing her a blog and I’m only three days off finishing my album dedicated to her eyes. But there’s an ocean between us.
- Everyone else loves her. All kinds of rivals for her affection have made all sorts of blogs and YouTube videos and tumblrs about how fucking great she is, describing her as their “spirit animal” and icon. Fuck you guys; she’s MY spirit animal!
- I’m late to the game. Everyone has known about this woman for centuries. I’m pretty sure, she’s the real guiding light of Joan of Arc. I am late to this party, because I am old and technology scares me, I should not be penalised for that.
- She is far away. I’m confident that this is her sole source of comfort, but it makes me sad. She is too good for America, which you know, could be said about millions of people but with her it’s especially true. I want to ship her out with Robert De Niro, DJ Prince “marry me already” Paul and Hershey’s Nutrageous bars (they’re proper nice, trust me).
But this is not about me. Despite my fantasies of us as roommates forever, in a glorious Jack Lemon and Walter Matthau scenario, my heroine is more than capable of speaking for herself:
Can someone please explain to me why she is not already Queen of the World? Genuine question.
There are too many videos for me to upload. Follow her YouTube and Tumblr: krissychula, or follow her on twitter at @latinfirekrzy1. And prepare to switch religion/ start believing.
Oh how I love thee, Krissychula. Oh, how I love thee.