It can't be helped. I am just completely and utterly happy. I am joyously looking at a lifetime of happiness with the man I love, here in my cottage by the sea, with my pet.

Nope. Its just not me.

I can't remember how I came across her, but I stumbled on a blog yesterday written by a girl living, apparently, in a cottage by the sea (?) with her man and her cat. And perhaps I caught her on a bad--er, well, good--day, but all she had to say about herself was that she liked the sea and she liked her cat, and she really really loved her man, and life was great and she was gloriously happy and content. In her cottage. By the sea. (Sorry, but I just can't let that go. I mean, who lives in a cottage by the sea. What is this girl, a mermaid?)

(Even more to the point, do you think she might be M's new girlfriend?)

Well, in any case, she's got me thinking. First of all, I think I may hate her. I mean, here I am in Manhattan, living in a room the size of a tampon dispenser and frickin' on-line dating, and she gets to live by the bloody sea with the man she loves and her dear, darling cat? I demand a recount.

Secondly, I feel kind of competitive towards her. Which is a new thing for me (like the other day when I used the phrase "That's a horse of a different color" for the first time). I want to one-up her happiness. Just. To. Make. Her. Miserable.

She thinks she can live in a cottage by the sea with her boyfriend and her cat? Yeah, well I'm gonna move to a cottage in a daisy meadow by a meandering brook with my soulmate and our pet chicken, Sparkle. And it will be Christmas every day, and we'll make our money by weaving daisy chain hats for all of our hippie friends, and Sparkle will lay golden eggs that, as it turns out, will make us live forever, which is great, because it'll give my soulmate and me an eternity of days to cultivate and grow our deep and beautiful love.

Also, Sparkle will beat her cat in a wrestling match.

And my soulmate will have a huge dick.

Editorial Comment: Sparkle is a damn fine chicken.