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Wednesday, August 30, 2006
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 WHEN KEEPING IT REAL GOES WRONG
Given thatI'm addicted to stupidity, I watch a lot of television news. If you want to see complicated matters explained to you in the condesending manner usually reserved for toddlers, watch nothing but cable news for 24 hours straight. You'll actually feel yourself getting dumber. I find to be this a comforting way to decompress after a long, hard day of dealing with assholes.
Unfortunately, Fox News Channel only became available in Canada recently and it's far too expensive to enjoy. So I settle for CNN. Whenever I'm home, I have my set tuned to CNN. As a matter of fact, that's my blog writing background noise of choice.
Because I'm employed in an industry that involves working evenings, I've grown very familiar with the afternoon anchors. That's how I came to be obsessed with Kyra Phillips. More specifically, I think that I'm in love with her. Okay, okay, I really just want to fuck her. Well. Perhaps better than she ever thought possible.
I'm not sure where this unholy burning in my loins for Kyra comes from (actually, I do, but I'd rather not get into that right now), but it's there. Of that there is no doubt. The overwhelming pressure in my crotch that she inspires is the tattooed banner of a woman's name lesser men wear over their hearts. Isn't that sentence the most beautiful thing you've ever read? Yes, it is true, women everywhere want to be with me and men want to be me. My deeply romantic nature makes me a truly sexy bastard. Maybe not enough to make up for my face, but what can you do?
There's something about her that I dig in a big way. I'm pretty sure that she has a tight little body behind that desk. And she has a certain lok that implies that she knows how to well and truly please a man. A gentleman like me can spot that in a woman from several thousand miles away. If CNN were even hafway serious about getting ratings, they'd team Kyra Phillips with Paula Zahn, put them in bikinis and make them wrestle. It isn't like their journalistic credibiliy could be any worse. Maybe Larry King could referee.
 I've long had a sneaking suspicion that Kyra is like other women, only more so. And normal women like to act all demure in public, only to get verbally out of control in the company of their girlfriends. Trust me, "girl talk" is far, far worse than what men discuss in the locker room. Not that I've been in a locker room lately. I tried it in the second grade after gym class and stopped the practice immediately. Everyone else was jealous of my beautiful, beautiful cock and cute little ass. Christ, I couldn't look more magnificent naked and this caused the other boys to resent, fear and hate me.
How do I know about girl talk? Well, between the ages of 15 and 22, I was even uglier than I am now. Consequently, no woman in her right mind would fuck me, but I was so friggin' adorable that they all wanted to be my friend. And they let me sit in on their bull sessions. Let me tell you, Sex in the City is pitiful in comparison. Never before did I think I'd hear one woman say to her friends, "I swear, his cock was Just. That. Big. I never thought I'd get the whole thing in my ass, but I did." Shoot your average woman full of sodium pentathol and she'll say things that will make Arnold Schwarzenegger blush. And spontaneousy ejaculate in his trousers.
It should go without saying that such conversations are how I came to know how women think and that good-looking men are incapable of performing cunnilingus competently. Really ladies, you should really date a monster like me. You won't regret it. Warren Jeffs' wives understood this and so should you.
I'm not sure why it is, but women love to talk in the bathroom. It may well be that they believe that if they stop talking for five minutes, they might actually die. There's something about the loosening of their bowels that loosens their tongues even more than usual. This is why girls go to the powder room in even numbered groups of no less than two, but no greater than 30. Just because I can't understand why women choose the toliet to keep it most real doesn't make it untrue. I'm not especially good at comprehending astronomy, either, but I still know that there are nine eight planets in our solar system.
 And yesterday, my dream came true. We all got to hear Kyra Phillips go potty. As I write this, it remains unknown if it was a number one or a number two, but I'm sure that Howard Kurtz will have the full story this weekend.
As we all know, President Bush was in Louisiana yesterday, making the highly amusing assertion to the still-soggy citizen of New Orleans that he's their BFF. During the speech, nature called Kyra in a way she couldn't resist. If she didn't have the biological imperative to take a conversation partner with her, things may not have gone so terribly, horribly wrong.
You see, one of the wizards in the control room left Kyra's lapel mic open. I was at home listening to the president of the United States engage in especially mindless blather when his voice was drowned out by a very echoey Kyra Phillips. To say I was in a state approaching nirvana is to understate things to the point of comedy.
(EDITOR'S NOTE: if the You Tube code craps out, you can watch the video here.)
Granted, she didn't give the thirty-five minute lecture about the glory of rimming ugly, retarded Canadians with shaved heads that I would have preferred, but these things happen. You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need. Not for the first time in my life, I found myself both giggling uncontrollably and stuggling with an almost painful erection.
The Chinese charcter for "crisis" is a combination of "danger" and "opportunity." Obviously, Kyra's family situation is fraught with danger. But this is an oppotunity for me. Since spending Thanksgiving with her brother and control freak of a sister- in- law is going to be decidedly uncomfortable, I'd like to invite her to spend the holidays with me.
If she's good, I promise to do the "Jame Gumb tuck dance" for her. And if you can think of a better way to give thanks, then you're a better person than I.
Easy Listening Recommendation of the Day: Tango 'Till They're Sore By: Tom Waits From: Rain Dogs
PermalinkLabels: Celebrity Skin, Modern Heroes
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