So today I was checking out a picture of that cat some scientists cloned.  Looks pretty real, huh?  I suppose that’s the point of cloning or something.  It’s actually funny to see that cat in light of a conversation Sue and I had yesterday.  See, in the midst of Valentine’s Day, Sue and I had lunch at a Mexican joint where we stuffed ourselves silly and still made room for sopapillas.  I won’t eat for another week now, I swear.  During our suffering in the car ride after lunch, we started in on our favorite topic as of late:  men and relationships.  We discussed the idea of cloning a few men we know because (at least in their current relationships) they represent all those wildly idealistic things Sue and I grew up believing in...like monogamy and wanting something more from a girl than just sex.  Can't imagine what Sue and I are thinking!

Today, as I was looking at this cat, I thought maybe there’s actually something to this men-cloning idea other than the antics of two bloated and disgruntled women.  I am beginning to believe that the future of all relationships is cloning.  Just imagine.  You’re in a relationship with a guy, and he’s pretty darn near perfect…except he snores to the point that the bed actually shakes and you’re thinking you’ve suddenly been cast in the next Exorcist movie and the devil has come to take you.  What can you do in this situation?  Well, you simply meet up with some anonymous clyde in a bar where you contract out his services to jump your boyfriend in the parking garage after work and take one or eight test tubes of blood.  You send the blood off to a lab with a note.  “Great guy with serious snoring problem.”  Six months and a gazillion dollars later, your boyfriend answers the door to find his replacement:  him, but snore-free. 

I think this is a great racket.  Personally I think it sucks when I meet a guy who’s pretty neat in every aspect, except his eyesight is perfect...because I happen to just lose it over a good-looking guy in glasses.  Short of splashing some convenient yet horrible burning liquid in the eyes of the guy with perfect eyesight, there’s nothing a girl like myself can do.  That’s where cloning comes in.  A quart of blood, and a scribbled note of, “Give him bad eyesight, but not too bad,” and I’m one happy chica.  It's a great solution for not only women, but also for society as a whole.  Think of all the jobs that will be created for criminal-types who are hired to obtain that blood.  No more unemployment lines for contract killers!

The only downside Sue and I found yesterday during our sugar-induced conversation was that once scientists start cloning men, they’ll never clone the right ones.  They’ll clone the thirty-five year old former high school wrestler with a free lifetime membership to the gym, who flashes their GNC card as a valid form of identification, and still wears their class ring.  He thinks he’s God’s gift to women, his name is Jimmy, and he drives one, too.   You know the guy I’m talking about.  I know you do.  That will be the first guy they clone, I promise.

In all seriousness, though, I hope everyone out there knows that not only are my rambling solutions all in jest, but that I would never condone the theft of blood from unsuspecting men for the purpose of cloning.  I also hope everyone had either a spectacular Valentine’s Day or It’s Okay To Be Alone Day…whichever you chose to celebrate yesterday.  And if you’re a guy and we happen to meet one day, just make sure you tell me up front if you’re wearing contacts, or if that eyesight really is an unfortunate 20/20…you know, in case I forget to ask.  Heh, heh, heh.

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