A blonde bombshell.
My greatest fear in life is the blonde bombshell, with long, lean legs that stretch all the way down to the floor.
That is why I have always been circumspect in my dealings with Donna and Ainsley. And C.J. to a degree, because whenever I think of C.J., in that certain way, I tend to see her as a blonde.
You see, the blonde bombshell is the harbinger of the Great American Mid-life Crisis--which I have managed to avoid thus far.
Yes, that turning point in one's life, the onset of Male Menopause.
Blonde sex kittens, toupees, shrinking clothes, gold chains, a red Corvette.
By steeling myself with fortitude and vigilance vis-à-vis the contemplation of those of the platinum persuasion, I have managed to avoid this critical juncture in my life and have, instead, focused my attention upon politics. With great success, I might add.
But, I now find myself standing on the edge of a slippery slope.
While carefully avoiding the blondes in my life, I did not foresee the development of a relationship of an extremely personal nature with a redhead.
Auburn locks, dimples, tight jeans, a black leather jacket, and a Harley.
I have been led into temptation and delivered to evil. I have sinned.
I need to redeem myself before God.
And Abbey and Leo.
I need to get back on the straight and narrow path.
Or so they tell me.
