I Love Myself

I Love Myself
written and read by Scott Weaver

Oh, I love, I love, I love myself!
Yes, indeed, I do!
I love, I love, I love myself!
And I think that you should to!

Now don’t be coy and subtle with me,
If you think I’m a handsome dude!
Just walk right up and tell me so,
And I’ll say, “How do you do!”

Oh, I love, I love, I love myself!
Yes, indeed, I do!
I love, I love, I love myself!
And I think you’re starting to, to!

Now don’t be all shy and ladylike,
Cause I can’t read that crap either!
If you want my love, you’ll have to prove
That you’re an eager beaver!

Oh, I love, I love, I love myself!
Yes, indeed, I do!
I love, I love, I love myself!
Don’t you love me to?

Now if you really want to be with me,
All you have to do is say, “Hi!
You’re really, really hot and sexy,
And I want you to be my guy!”

Oh, I love, I love, I love myself!
I really, really, do!
But I’m kind of tired of myself,
And I’d like to try-on you!

Now if we meet, and do hook up,
Don’t wait for me to make the move,
Because you see, I’m shy as can be,
And you’ll have to do that to!

Well, I love, I love, I love myself!
You know this to be true!
But for as much as I love myself,
I could really use a screw!

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Don’t Sweat It

WARNING: What I’m about to tell you, including all descriptions, statements, and characters, is sadly, depressingly, real and true. I’m not making this up.

I have one huge, glaringly obvious, attribute that I, and every one else, am terribly conscious of. It’s the bane of my existence and probably a key reason I’m single. I sweat.

Now, before those that don’t know me go making the conclusion that I’m being silly or overdramatic, you have to understand what I’m talking about. If you’ve never had the displeasure of watching me drip sweat because it’s above 65 degrees or there are more then 3 people in a room, you just have no idea how bad this is. I’m not talking about a few beads of perspiration on my forehead or even moist pits. No, I’m talking about soaked hair, drip off the nose, freshly showered wetness. I am Niagara to your dripping faucet. And no matter how you look at it, an overly-sweaty man is not attractive.

If you’re wondering why I sweat so much, I have to blame my parents. I have always been a sweater. In baseball I had to have my own helmets and gear because no one else wanted to wear something you could wring sweat out of. I got the sweating from my father, who is also a sweater. If he goes dancing, he has to take a towel and 3 shirts to change into throughout the night. When he ski’s he has to take an extra set of clothes to change into afterwards because his clothes are soaked by the time he’s done.

But the fun doesn’t stop there! Not only do I sweat profusely, I also inherited a tendency towards dehydration (which is only heightened because of the sweating) from my mother. I intake well over 100 ounces of fluid a day. I am always drinking something (mostly water, if you’re wondering). I have to. Otherwise I would shrivel up and die!

So why am I baring my sweaty-soul in a blog post? Because I know I can’t be the only one with this issue. There must be others that suffer from perpetual wetness, and I just want them to know that I’m here for them. I feel their pain. And I also want you lucky, dry, people out there to know that we would change this if we could. We would love to be sweat-free and to stop wiping our brows or wiping our palms on our jeans for every handshake. The problem is, we can’t. So, next time you see a sweaty guy sitting in the corner at a party, trying to discretely swipe the sweat from his face, take a towel over and talk to him. You never know, he could be “The One”! Sure, he maybe a sweaty “One”, but what’s a little moisture between soul mates?

Also, I could use some cool, sweat free, dating suggestions. At this point I have come to the conclusion that I can only date during late Fall and Winter months, when the weather is conducive to my overly sweaty nature. It’s that or in a cold-locker at a local restaurant. Any other ideas?

Still single and sweating like a freakin’ pig,

Scott