Even with almost a full year on the East Coast under my belt, I still haven't gotten used to checking the weather report on the daily.
I know and understand that yes, I am in New England for cripes sakes-where it can be 85 and balmy one day; 28 degrees and snowing the next. And that because of this I should pay attention to such important details that assist in defining the day. But when I arrived back East (New York City at the time), I had just come off of a few year stint as a resident of Los Angeles, California. The shining City of Angels existing warmly in the Golden State; where the average temperature, even in the middle of winter, is a big bucket of degrees... with rain only about twice a year.
I never had to turn on the weather channel, or consult weather.com when I wanted to plan a trip to Venice Beach or to the Huntington Gardens- I just went. Because unlike Danny Devito's latest television project, it truly is always sunny in Los Angeles.
So now that I am [still] here, when I need to know whether I can feel like I am in California again or find out that it is going to rain on my parade, I don't want to see: Barry Burbank and his just noogied head spatting chances of showers; or Harvey Leonard double fisting his New England Emmy Awards and talking to me about humidity; or Todd Gross. I mean c'mon, Gross. Really? Does one think anyone wants to have their morning coffee and salt and pepper toast with a side of Gross? I think the answer is probably no.
And yes, I know that here in Boston we do have Misha Michaels. And sure, I guess she is kind of cute; But she still tries to rock the Rachel haircut circa 1990-whatever while appearing uncomfortably stuffed into her myriad gray pant suits, really just trying a little too hard to be one of the guys.
Quite frankly, I don't want these aesthetics in the person that typically, in New England, is going to be the bearer of bad news at the start of my day.
So, what do I want? You ask. What I want, and what I think most would truly appreciate, is this woman:
Yessss-I want cooing and purring and writhing, frothed by the occasional giggle, from a woman on a chase lounge.
(Mmm... a chase lounge)
I want a sympathetic look that tells me: it IS going to be OK, despite the accumulating snowfall in May.
I want to see the batting of lashes with my scattered t-storm, and hear genuine happiness laced over the words "sunshine all day"
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I want sex with my f*cking weather report.
I mean hey, why not? It can be quite depressing in these parts, especially in winter, and I think the navy blue-balled men of this area, and the others who shiver, and/or sweat, amongst them, could benefit from a breathy bundle of joy in satin.
And for you Moms and Pops-don't worry.
When it is time to announce school cancellations for the tots, tweens and teens, we can bring Barry back. Something tells me he wouldn't mind sharing the stage, and possibly some hair product, with a lady like that.
I know and understand that yes, I am in New England for cripes sakes-where it can be 85 and balmy one day; 28 degrees and snowing the next. And that because of this I should pay attention to such important details that assist in defining the day. But when I arrived back East (New York City at the time), I had just come off of a few year stint as a resident of Los Angeles, California. The shining City of Angels existing warmly in the Golden State; where the average temperature, even in the middle of winter, is a big bucket of degrees... with rain only about twice a year.
I never had to turn on the weather channel, or consult weather.com when I wanted to plan a trip to Venice Beach or to the Huntington Gardens- I just went. Because unlike Danny Devito's latest television project, it truly is always sunny in Los Angeles.
So now that I am [still] here, when I need to know whether I can feel like I am in California again or find out that it is going to rain on my parade, I don't want to see: Barry Burbank and his just noogied head spatting chances of showers; or Harvey Leonard double fisting his New England Emmy Awards and talking to me about humidity; or Todd Gross. I mean c'mon, Gross. Really? Does one think anyone wants to have their morning coffee and salt and pepper toast with a side of Gross? I think the answer is probably no.
And yes, I know that here in Boston we do have Misha Michaels. And sure, I guess she is kind of cute; But she still tries to rock the Rachel haircut circa 1990-whatever while appearing uncomfortably stuffed into her myriad gray pant suits, really just trying a little too hard to be one of the guys.
Quite frankly, I don't want these aesthetics in the person that typically, in New England, is going to be the bearer of bad news at the start of my day.
So, what do I want? You ask. What I want, and what I think most would truly appreciate, is this woman:
Yessss-I want cooing and purring and writhing, frothed by the occasional giggle, from a woman on a chase lounge.
(Mmm... a chase lounge)
I want a sympathetic look that tells me: it IS going to be OK, despite the accumulating snowfall in May.
I want to see the batting of lashes with my scattered t-storm, and hear genuine happiness laced over the words "sunshine all day"
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I want sex with my f*cking weather report.
I mean hey, why not? It can be quite depressing in these parts, especially in winter, and I think the navy blue-balled men of this area, and the others who shiver, and/or sweat, amongst them, could benefit from a breathy bundle of joy in satin.
And for you Moms and Pops-don't worry.
When it is time to announce school cancellations for the tots, tweens and teens, we can bring Barry back. Something tells me he wouldn't mind sharing the stage, and possibly some hair product, with a lady like that.
