She has not my Word Gift

Have nots -that is what I find myself surrounded by lately. Look around you, grab a fucker off the street and talk to him for a while. What is lacking in our fatigued reality of modern day conversation is word gift. Thus, I would like to dedicate this chronicle of confessions and sorts to my unfortunate interaction with those around me lacking my gift of conversation, both written and oral.

Chronicle 1: After choosing the perfect zucchini at my local market, I decided to take a walk on the wicked side of life and chose the perfect Shiraz to sip after I enjoy my falic vegetable. "Penfold's is fine indeed". At least that is what I tried to tell the marginally attractive woman eying the wine rack beside me. But as soon as those beautiful words rolled off my tongue, wrapped in colored iridescent cellophane and bowed as the gift that words can become, she became inattentive. I asked if she was "only passing through Fishkill", a stocking stuffer of a phrase that garnered a wince. "How can my gift be ignored" I asked. Confused and lacking the gift of wit and response, she uttered, "huh?".

Sadly, I rolled by cart away from the selfish woman, who indeed was probably a lesbian. Barring my appearance, I will chalk today's events up to women lacking the ability to appreciate my word gift.