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The idea of romance is a strange and multi-faceted concept. After all, everyone has their own idea of a romantic situation - candlelit dinners, a marriage proposal at the Red Sox game, or even eating four dozen Taco Bell chalupas.

And who is Jacob Sanford to judge those things? Honestly, those Chalupas are pretty damn tasty.

That having been said, one of the most romantic concepts to me in this life is the thought of space travel. Looking at Earth from the surface of the Moon qualifies as one of those moments that most people spend their entire life chasing and never actually catch.

I mean, honestly.

Honestly.

In the end, your life could have been wrought with drama - four wives, alcoholism, criminal record, bankruptcy, struggle with drug abuse, whatever. But when you’re lying on your deathbed, about to finally end your trip out of this life, YOU HAVE BEEN TO THE MOON.

And sure, there are unlimited ways to be unique and be remembered. Getting a high score in Pac-Man, winning the Tour de France without drugs, having over a Hundred cats living in your apartment.

But going to space? Walking on another celestial body?{add explicit adjective here} awesome.

So… the point of all this ranting?

I would like to officially announce that I am have opened up my schedule to be available as a candidate for an astronaut in the 2018 moon mission. I drink too much booze, love cooking meals that would never be available in space and am terrifically afraid of heights. But I’d be willing to put all that aside for a moment just to write my name in the dust on the surface of the moon… I think.

I wonder if they have pesto linguine on Shuttle missions..