Nothing cuts quite like a diamond, am I right ladies?
When it comes to feeling acute depression about being single, just look to the nearest jewelry commercial and grab your Zoloft. Here are the BIG FIVE offenders:
Every kidnapping begins with a “Kay” too, am I right? I’m not wrong. You know I almost slept with an accused murderer once, but apparently he got “spooked” by my porcelain doll collection and ran off. He’s married now.
Were I the woman in this commercial, I’d take that ring even if it came with the cold dead finger from which it was pried still attached. When it comes to diamonds, blood just ups the value- I’m looking at you Leo DiCaprio. Always. He never let go. Point is, while this little dollop of fan fiction courtesy of Kay Jewelers might have torture-porn overtones, if diamonds are involved- we take the plunge girls. Even if the plunge is a knife coming at a 90-degree angle into your stomach.
The “she’s gonna cry” store. She did cry. For hours. Four hours. Just standing in the middle of Zales, alone. She came under the pretense of engagement ring shopping. Plenty of women spend hours designing their dream diamond ring online. Why should doing it in IRL be any different? A Saturday afternoon is meant to be spent playing after all, and she wanted to play fiancé.
So when the Zalesman, who couldn’t have been more than 19, asked for her boyfriend’s details in case he came in- why did she have to give a name? “Kevin Sorbo.” She could have stopped there and hope he was too young for the pop culture reference to sink in, but no she chose to blurt out “he put the glad in gladiator.” Immediately she burst into tears, keeping the lie from spiraling any further out of control.
No one laughed. She just stood there and wept. Wept into her naked fingers.