July 1, 2008
Needs A Karate Kick In The Solar Plexus
Monday evenings are usually spent chasing The Girlfriend around the lounge, trying to seduce her with sweet nothings in her ear, and tranquilizers in her thigh. Round about twenty past seven though, the fun and games usually come to an abrupt end.
With a swift kick to the groin, The Girlfriend will leave me curled up in the foetal position, desperately trying not to cough up my testicles, whilst she settles down for the weather report.
“But Shaun,” I hear you ask, “why is she so keen on the weather report? Surely frolicking with you is a helluva lot more fun than knowing what the swells in Richard’s Bay and Durban are going to be?” You would think so, dear readers, but this is surprisingly NOT the case.
I haven’t been able to prove it yet, but I think it has something to do with E-TV’s new weatherman, Derek Van Dam. Whenever Derek is on, her eyes glaze over, like a fat kid who has just seen a chocolate doughnut at the Pick n Pay counter, and tries to gobble it up when the baker lady turns her back to fetch some more fresh pies out the oven.
The Girlfriend will then go off into this weird trance, listening to Derek and his American accent massacre the likes of “Polokwane” and “Vredendal”. Apparently she isn’t the only one who loves the wee man – he is apparently 3 feet tall – many other guys I’ve spoken to have told me similar tales of kicks in the groin and general apathy by their girlfriends for those 15 minutes that Van Dam is on every night.
Worst of all, The Girlfriend isn’t even able to tell me what the temperature will be the next day, which invariably leaves me prancing around in sleeveless vests and shorts when it’s pissing with rain outside. This OBVIOUSLY happens because I can’t judge the weather just by looking outside.
If I could, I would be a f**king weatherman.
I don’t think I like Derek Van Dam. He seems slightly creepy, the kind of of guy who will fart in the lift and then not own up, letting the old woman or the little kid with the runny nose take the fall instead. His voice also annoys me, the type of high pitch that I had when I was 15, during those heady days of Catholic School Choir – before my voice broke and I was then able to cause Earth tremors and panties to drop with my deep baritone.
Seriously, why do women love him? Is it the accent? The boy band hairstyle?
I’m at a loss here, and I can’t handle another kick in the gonads.
Fill me in.
UPDATE – Aarrgh!!! And he’s a blogger too.
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