Rants. Raves. T-shirts. All observations on the peculiarity of Provo life.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

Cure for loneliness.

I don't care what anyone says. Spring is not the worst time of year to be single, because winter takes the cake.

You know it's true. The cuddling by a fire. The walks in the snow holding hands. The wretched mistletoe tradition that truly only benefits the romantically endowed. It's enough to make you want to grab Jack Frost by the head and squeeze until figgy pudding comes out his ears. Or maybe that's just me. *cough*

Lucky for me (and you, dear reader), the kind folks at Biography have come to my lonesome aid. Thanks to this fabulous site, I have finally found my one....my only....my...

Dead Celebrity Soulmate.

That's right, just answer a few simple questions about yourself and your ideal corps--I mean, partner, and Biography will find you the love of your life that you missed by a century or so. It's just like the dating game, only slightly more morbid.

So can you guess my dead celebrity soulmate? Here are some clues he gave me:

The Book On My Bedside Table: "Teach Yourself Electricity and Electronics, 2nd Ed."

Fill In The Blanks: Youth and Beauty is sexy. Engineering a system by which one can deliver running water throughout an estate is sexier.

My Ideal Date Would Include: After a simple meal in my studio, you would disrobe for me and I would translate your beauty into sculpture. You would smile mysteriously at me, a sort of half smile that I'd have trouble interpreting. We would probably have to schedule several dates in a row for me to complete my tribute.

What a swooner, right? Okay, and maybe a fast mover. Any guesses as to who this bearded casanova could be? That's right! It's....


Leonardo da Vinci! No more lonely nights for me. I've got Leo. And the Priory of Sion.

Now it's your turn! Leave a note and let us know who your deceased soulmate is. As for me, I've got some digging to do.

8 comments:

Anonymous said...

edgar allen poe or vincent van gogh. why am i so attracted to that moody artist type?

austinmcraig said...

Can't say that these match making things always work. Case in point: My historical soul mates were
1.Lucrezia (or Lucrecia) Borgia
"Lucrezia's family later came to epitomize the ruthless Machiavellian politics and sexual corruption alleged to be characteristic of the Renaissance Papacy." Awesome. -Thank you Wikipedia
2.Frida Kahlo (gross, I don't go for the brow)
3. Cleopatra. I am indifferent.

rogeber said...

I got Lucrezia Borgia too. Um, you can have her.

Landon said...

I just didn't get that into this one. Why isn't there a website that will tell me that I AM Niccolo Machiavelli?

Anonymous said...

Grace Kelly - hot but kind of snoody if you ask me. I'm not going to go buy caviar for my wife to wine and dine her. The other two had "frumpy" body types, so I didn't even bother to remember their names.

Jourdan said...

....and danner is officially the reason for eating disorders all over the world. *sigh* I'm sure they were....sweet spirits?

LJ said...

I was Rudolph Valentino, then van Gogh, then Edgar Allen Poe. Um, it looks like a tossup between chauvinism and madness...pick your poison, sucker...

Anonymous said...

Hold up on the blame train sister friend . . . I don't know what a "frumpy" body type even is, I just know that "frumpy" is a pejorative adjective. If somebody said I had a "frumpy" body type I would punch them in the throat, then wonder what the heck it is that they said. Maybe I missed that issue of Cosmogirl where they explained what frumpy body types are.

Besides, if I told the computer I want a different body type than frumpy and it gives me "frumpy" I have every reason to be upset 'cuz out of all the dead celebrities there are, they couldn't get my order right. Likewise, if I wanted a frumpy body type and they got me a bunch of other ones, I would be equally upset. I just figured as long as I'm going to get to choose, they might as well give me my choice.

I'm sure there are some frumpy dudes out there who want some frumpy girls. If I marry a frumpy girl and come to find out what the heck that means, I'll let you all know I was wrong.