Sad About Penguin Love

Tonight the entire family (Me, Dad, Sinead, Uncle Chris and Aunt Becky) went to see The March of the Penguins. Morgan Freeman narrated the difficulties of their Arctic journeying very sympathetically. I cried. I didn't cry at the dead baby penguins, though (well, not more than once; and there were like, five opportunities to cry at dead baby penguins). I can deal with sad moments, especially those involving explicable things like death. I cried the hardest when the penguin found its mate, and they appeared to have fallen in love. Something as happy and inexplicable as that is bound to make me feel sad. I came home and ate some tapioca, half a salmon patty, and four spinach nuggets. Now I'll probably be fat, and I still don't feel better! If only those penguins hadn't been so unfathomably tender with one another, I might be happy right now.