Marrying George Clooney

Ken loves The Weather Channel.
I’m not sure if this is a guy thing, or a Ken thing, or a guy named Ken thing, but it is on the one television set that we own, almost – no shit – 24/7. I kid you not. There are times when I witness, actually sneak a peek, at my husband swaying to the Weather Channel theme music.
He is sexy.
He is mine.

Which brings me to this. Occasionally I’ll get up in the middle of the night and turn on the TV. Unlike my parents who had a TV in every single room including the extra bathroom, where a small Sony black and white sat next to the extra toilet paper holder. I am not a TV person, as in: there are some shows I watch, but can live without. I love HBO, and AMC. I can really frickin’ live without any & all reality shows. However, on the occasional night that I toss and turn and end up turning on the TV – inevitably it goes straight to the Weather Channel since this was the last channel that was watched by Ken.

And there, right there….

Standing in front of a map of the United States, a perky weather person is pointing up North somewhere, giving a local on the 8’s weather report: Tonight in Northeast Pennsylvania we are experiencing a clear crisp lovely evening. Clear as a bell. Ding Dong. No precipitation. And you won’t be needing a jacket tonight. As I look out the window from my Northeast Pennsylvania home, I think, geez, anyone can be a weather person because it’s snowing like a motherfucker, and clear as a bell? hey, you couldn’t see the tip of your nose if it were any further from your face.

So, I have this fantasy: watching this perky person fading, sort of like a dream sequence kind of fade out – as we fade in, I – me – I am the Weather Person. Me. Dressed in a fabulous black pantsuit (wide leg flair trousers, no doubt and opera length Mikimoto pearls.) I look fabulous. Behind me is the map of the United States and I, the new perky menopausal Weather Person, am covering the local on the 8’s.

My show is called “The Internal Storm” outlook.

As I point to the East Coast:

Here in Northeast Pennsylvania a major Tornado occurred in the home of a woman in her mid 50’s. When her husband asked her how her day was going, she didn’t like the tone in his voice, it had a slight hint of condescending, and with that Mary Majors tore her home to frickin’ bits.

As I point to the Southern states:

We have an unusual storm brewing. It appears that a menopausal woman was pulling into a parking space and was “blind-sided” by a Disabled vehicle. The woman, whose name is not being revealed, got out of her car and beat the crap out of the hood of the said disabled vehicle until both the hood and air bag exploded, leaving the disabled person trapped. When the cops arrived, the unnamed woman screamed: “Fuck you! I am disabled, I am emotionally disabled,” and was led away only after she was able to call her husband from her cell phone.

And here in the Midwest, as I point to a general area:

A biblical flood warning is in effect. Two friends decided that they had had enough of their husband’s bullshit and they let it rip, opening every single fire hydrant within a ten-mile radius, and now the entire town is under water. When asked, the local meteorologist said:

“Well, I gotta tell ya, seems to me it’s the internal storms that cause the most damage.” Leaning into the camera, ”Can I say hello to the little wife and kids…?”