Slutty whether

Immediately you know from this post title that I’m taking a gamble and shooting for something really clever.  It may end up a total disaster.  Whether I’m the former or the latter, you’ll have to be the judge.

Last night on the evening news, it was time for the five-day forecast.  Whatever happened to matriculated meteorologists with white hair and pin striped suits?  Instead some young thing, who’s barely in the second season of her life, steps on stage in a slinky low cut dress to report on the local weather.  If I weren’t living in California, I’d predict a forecast of sleet with those two snow tires she’s sporting.  My guess is that she’s never once read a barometer.  

My husband grins and starts perspiring like the temperature’s just gone up twenty degrees.  She looks more like she should be selling cars with those two frontal airbags.  Heck, I can hardly make out the map in back of her.  Whatever the weather, my husband’s in hot water.

The next guy on the air reports about swarming bees.  My apologies, those must have been some mighty powerful bees to leave that poor little thing with such gargantuan bee stings.  

FYI:  Don’t try these Google searches at home (but especially not at work).  The internet can be pretty scary looking for synonyms for coconuts, Winnebagos, bazookas, airbags, bee stings…