Anna, I received your card in the mail. I was truly touched by it. Know that the words of your beautiful card made me tear up (I'm not embellishing) even as I literally wanted to tear up the Bigfoot patch it contained (see scanned image below). Strong as my hands are, however, I unfortunately lack the tensile strength of an abominable snowman's grip to successfully rip that blasted embroidered Bigfoot patch to shreds with my bare hands.
|Just look at those little teensy weensy Bigfoot footprints and try not to laugh!|
I'm confident you can extrapolate from your own personal experience interfacing with men that some men are, in keeping with the parlance of popular U.S. cultural slang, "boob men" or "butt men" or (like me) "YETI men". But I think you already knew that, Anna, didn't you?, and yet despite this knowledge, you willfully and with malice aforethought, still decided to taunt me with your sordid and pathetic Bigfoot devotion.
I bet this so-called "Bigfoot" of yours doesn't even wear size fourteen shoes like me. I bet a Little League cup could service Bigfoot's junk just fine!
Bigfoot my big fat buttocks! Don't even get me started, Anna, but thanks for getting me started, anyway, because I love hating on Bigfoot.
For instance, did you know, Anna, that Bigfoot has to resort to oxygen whenever it ventures above a paltry 12,000 feet in elevation? Which sure isn't often since the Pacific Northwest's measly mountains (measly, you heard me) rarely exceed such heights. Meanwhile, across the Pacific, Yetis run marathons whose courses top out in excess of 25,000 feet in the Himalayas, and not once, if we're to believe the ancient scrolls of Nepalese and Tibetan Buddhist monks (and I see no reason why we shouldn't), has a Yeti ever needed any damn oxygen. Not only do Yetis have bigger feet than Bigfoot (and bigger penises), they've also got bigger and better lungs. Bigger and better everything!
And don't you dare call me a Bigfoot Bigot, Anna, just because Bigfoot belongs to a minority population of dark-haired monsters, like Blacula or the Cookie Monster, while my superior Yetis are white complected.
Face it, Anna, as I've said before and so say here now again: Sasquatch are pussies. And while it's true you could also call me -- at least in this specific Sasquatch-euphemism-context, a "Sasquatch man" too, I'll never be a "Bigfoot man".