Is it me, or is it you?

I'm me - are you? I don't know what the end brings except waves crashing. I was wondering if I could do without some vertebrae or perhaps substitute my fingers with some spark plugs. Yes I am in love with an unavailable woman and a cockateel was giving me the eye. It will all work out for the best, as long as the interest rates don't go up. I was planning on leading a coup against the high percentage of those with feet shodded as for athletic intent. We were going to camp 50 yards outside the outskirts of town and dance and sing incantations all night long around a fire. "Woe to the sporty and competitive, and their shiny sanguine flesh!" "Behold! the bearer of potato chips is watching! He will not spare you or show you mercy as you don your twisted laurels! No!" But then the urge to jump rope came over me and I had to holler, "Camilla! My dear! It was you! It was you, my precious! Dripping with corn syrup and a bouquet of Hotwheels(TM) in your hand! It was you I have loved for so long! Not your mistress's fingernail clippings!" And there was peace. Enduring sweet peace.