This is not a democracy, this is a happy dictatorship.

I got this precious gem from my father, thanks dad.

Anyway, the Brown Couch votes have been tallied. Alas and alack it appears that the general (limited) public believes that Devin will be the first to marry and therefore claim the brown couch. Whatever. Clearly, the public is flawed. Obviously, I will win. With my charm and good looks how could I not?

But there is just one question that was on my mind throughout this Brown Couch poll extravaganza: Who in the world is voting for Devin?

Seriously.

Not that I don't love Devin. I do. He is a cool-cat like unto myself. But, seriously?

So Devin-voters it is time to come clean. Please enlighten me on why you voted for Devin. Doing so will help decrease your shame, though it can never be entirely erased.

In explanation: The Brown Couch

The Brown Couch is magical. It makes sick people well. Sitting on it is a dream. The Brown Couch is a miracle. Everyone wants it.

My mother inherited the Brown Couch when she wed my Father. Or at sometime after. Point being that if she had not married it would not belong to her.

Thus, it has become a competition between my siblings and me. The first of us to marry inherits the Brown Couch.

This is taken very seriously. Okay, so maybe only very to me. And maybe it is only speculation/wishful thinking that my mother will actually relinquish her rights to the Brown Couch upon my marriage. But I do hope.

So vote. (For me, preferably).

The game is afoot.

Devin informed me today (via e-mail) that he plans to claim the Brown Couch upon his return from Mexico. He says that he has spent the last two years honing his social skills and suppressing his wanting. He will suppress no longer. He believes that this will ensure him the Brown Couch.

He is mistaken.

I will triumph over him. I will be named conqueror. I will sit upon the throne that is the Brown Couch.

But so that you may voice your opinion I have created a poll. Please vote.

Pushing me around and pushing me away.

Clive likes to think that because he matches the brown couch the brown couch belongs to him. This thought of his is incorrect. The brown couch must be won. My eyes are on the prize. Mere matching will do nothing to secure brown couch ownership. Sip on that, Clive.

Also, it appears that Clive is weighing in at over one hundred pounds. Giving explanation as to why I like to refer to him as "Clive Fat-Fat".

Anyway, he takes up a large portion of the brown couch. At one point Melissa and I were both sitting on the ground after being bullied out of our small corners on the couch.