I appreciate misadvertisement as much as the next person.

There's a reason misadvertisement is successful and the answer lies in its ability to create for us frail creatures, a safe, false sense of security.

If you tell me a watermelon is seedless, I'll gleefully buy it, give a friendly peck on the cheek to the salesperson, lose myself in a curtsy, skip home, and sing song about just how seedless it's going to be. I'll glide around my kitchen twirling my empire waist dress to the enchanting tunes of Ella & Louis, erratically waving my shiny butcher's knife, in sweet, sweet anticipation of cutting into my watermelon without seeds...my personal pledge to perfection...

Until, I catch sight of a little fine print below the promise...

May contain an occassional seed

But I thought it was seed less??!!!

I hurl my knife across the room and as it spirals and spins and finally lands on my inspirational poster, I cry into my delusional self because now I have to accept that the watermelon probably isn't seedless at all and most likely contains an imperfection or two...just like life and people, never perfect, always flawed and consistently disappointing. I know I'm going to agonize over this "metaphor for life" watermelon, searching for its blemishes, as I do with people's personalities, expertly.

Sure enough, here was the bad seed. Butcher knife ripped out of the wall and back in hand, I raise it high into the heavens and bring it crashing down onto the little black disappointment. It smashes into 500 pieces and I weep for its short, unfortunate lot in life.

Anyone want to date me? My offerings are emotional stability and a clean bill of mental health.