Submitted by Jo
I am suffering from severe Wentaholism, and I am pretty far gone. Ever since The Pretty hit our shores six weeks ago, my life has never been the same again. In fact, I have no more life now because every second, every thought, every breath, is devoted to Him and Him alone. Friends who don't share my devotion are sick and tired of my endless proselytizing about Our Lord Pretty, and my spamming them daily with His absolutely divine Images.
Finally, an exasperated doctor friend took me aside and said: "Darling, I'm afraid you have a bad case of Wentaholism. You have all the classic symptoms – a flushed face, shortness of breath, heart palpitations, and involuntary buckling of the knees, accompanied by multiple Wentgasms... with just one soul-piercing glance of Blue Steel, or a mere whisper of Warm Honey in your ears."(Oh! Did you hear that sound?)
With a failed Wentervention and having been abandoned by my faithless friends, I renounce the world to seek refuge in safe harbor, where I can worship in the company of religious fanatics who share my single-minded devotion and pursuit of His Most Divine. By an
act of Went, I stumbled upon this hallowed Church. Will this prove to be the salvation for my tortured soul?
As a test of my faith, I was asked to wait for a sign from above (and not to forget to check in the Bulk folder). Lo and behold! The sign fell upon me... but wait! What is this? It's in the Bulk folder, email number #666! (I am absolutely not kidding about this part.)
Jeepers! Could this be a sign from the Almighty? Am I consigned to the Wentibago on the road to perdition? For surely the Lord knows I have entertained more than a few sinful thoughts about His Hottieness.
My name is Jo and I'm a Wentaholic. My doctor friend told me that the first stage of addiction is dependence (you can't live without your drug), and the second stage is abuse (when the addiction has taken over your life). Father, I went straight to abuse the day The Blue Steel put butterflies in my stomach, and the Polished Oak put my knickers in a twist (literally). I beg thee forgive me my sins, for my will (and flesh, and knees) are weak.
Father, I admit that I am powerless in the face of Wentaholism. I understand that a necessary step in beating an addiction is to dissociate myself from situations and people that remind me of my past habit. I know I NEED to quit because Wentaholism is ruining my life, but... I don't WANT to!! Because any moment spent without Went or finding no updates on the net sends me crashing into Wentdrawal, and life is not worth living without My Beloved, is it? How did I
ever live before Went came into my life?
Amazing Went, how sweet thy voice
That burned a soul like mine
I once could see, but now am blind
Was fine, but now am no longer of sound mind....
My life was officially ruined the day I was BBTP on the box. Hereafter, no man in the breadth of creation can ever hope to hold a candle to His Prettiness. (And I shall have to look at a whole lot of ugly men for the rest of my life!) Lord, I thank Thee for Your generosity in sending us your gift to womankind--the physical perfection of your Art, balm for the soul, candy for the eye, Liquid Sex to the ear. If anyone ever doubted that You existed, let them only lay eyes on The Pretty and they shall know that a work of art such as he could never have been created by mortal hands. Adonis would be jealous! If Michelangelo were around today, he would doubtless toss David into the Danube and sculpt a Went. (With NO boxers too--Lord have mercy!!!)
Ah, but I lapse into religious ecstasies again! Went is my shepherd, and I am insatiable.
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