I have a dream.  No, not like the good doctor.  I want to be this person:

I've seen this picture many times.  I've saved it to many hard drives... and lost them.  I LOVE this man.  I want him to be my Valentine.  I want to touch him.  To hold him.  To tell him that everything is going to be OK.  I want to BE him.

But can I REALLY be him?  Is it physically possible?  No.  But I can try look like him.  So I have devised a plan.  A foolproof plan.  First, I think I'm too tall.  So, I better chop of my legs at the knees and get feet implants.  Like Hank Hill's dad.  That should give me the right height.  Then I need to grow my hair out.  I am doing that as we speak.  Hell, it's pretty long by my standards.... but I need more.  Once it's to size, I need to buy a double quarter pounder.... and slop it in my hair.  His oily hair nourishes me.  It's one of his greatest strengths.  But my gel only makes my hair LOOK greasy..... but it's hard.  I need good ol fashioned American Grease, and McDonalds can help with that.  Almost there.

This is the worst part.  Nature has played a cruel joke on me.  I lost weight.  I'm not really "fat" anymore.  I'm just really chubby and have a lot of extra skin.  I need girth.  Why did God do this to me?  Only one way to fix this mess.  Philly Cheesesteak Sandwiches.  The gift of the gods.  I love those babies.... and I'm vegetarian.  It's steak....and cheese.....and grease....ON A BUN!  It's amazing, and tasty.  I figure like 6-7 of those babies a day will do me.  About a year of that, and I'll will be this man.  Which is great, cause I'll have time to grow my hair, heal my legs, and work on my crazy face (good thing I have my rapeface down, cause that's the only way I could get any).  Maybe I'll buy that rad armband in the meantime so I have something to encourage me.

PS - I REALLY do love this guy.  He makes me happy.

PPS - Be my Valentine.