I need your help

Dear imaginary girlfriend... This past Saturday, the kids and I decided it was time to clean up the fallen branches from the last umpteen weeks of crazy storms. But this decision didn't happen until after we decided to have a camp fire. Out comes the lawnmower and trailer and off to collect kindling and firewood. Who is doing the majority of the work? The gals. My daughter and her friend next door, the 2 boys were inside playing Lego's or something. So we rode the trailer around and I stopped at all the places where there were branches and sticks and they picked them up and threw them in the trailer. We came across a large branch that the gals couldn't lift, so off the lawnmower I go. I attempted to load the large branch into the trailer only to find out it was covered in fire ants. I dropped it. But... A single fire ant. Down my shorts. Bit my ass. Game over. Collecting firewood was done, my seat was on fire. I sent the kids inside. And then I realized we had been in the woods for hours collecting firewood. So... 1. Can you check me for ticks? 2. My ass is on fire, can you grab the itch cream and help out a little, cause I can't see back there? 3. I think that's too much, we shall skip the next 7 (happy 7 things left to your imagination) Cheers, Your imaginary boyfriend

Can I mend a broken heart?

My Dearest Dyson, I remember the first time I met you, all clammed up in your box. You were my ex wife's pride and joy. She wouldn't let me touch you. I held back and respected her request, though I constantly admired your sleek curves as you gently rolled across the floor sucking effortlessly. It always gave me goose bumps to see you in motion. Sometimes when she was away, I would sneak in your room and turn you on, but it was always a quick turn on, I didn't want her to know. Then one day, she left and took you with her. I was devastated, but I remembered that one time when you used my cell to call your twin sister. So I went out on a limb and called her. We met at Target and she was just like you, all clammed up in her box at first. But once we got home and I took her out, she really opened up. We raced through the house, she was shaking her money maker all over my bedroom floor. Her curves, wow. We danced through the hall, sometimes I was only wearing boxers, but she never seemed to mind. Everything was turning out beautiful. Over time, though, we saw less and less of each other. Sometimes the house cleaner would come over and she would get turned on and completely ignore me. I was OK with it at first. But then something happened, times when I really needed her, it seemed as though something had clogged her head. She wouldn't do the things she used to do. I thought it was me. I nurtured her for awhile. Some days were bad, others just sucked. Then yesterday, I thought I had it all figured out. We sat down and I gently caressed her and finally cleared her head. And we went back to dancing down the hall and rolling around the bedroom until... I broke her heart. Well, actually it was the little red thing that you step on to get the vacuum to go into "sweep the floor mode." So, since you are sisters, do you think I should call your Dad and see if I can get a replacement heart or should I just let her slouch in the corner. She just won't stand up anymore. I. Just. Don't. Know. If. I. Can. Take. It. I love her, but it's killing me to see her this way. I want to fix it. But is it worth it? Please help! Yours truly, Me