Kyle: How’s life in Zionsville as a house husband?
David: Not bad, not bad at all. I think I’m well suited for it.
Kyle: What makes you think so?
David: People, and not just my wife, keep telling me that I should be able to relate to the kids. They say it must be easy for me to understand the self-centered, short attention span, and temperamental behavior of children. Like today at the grocery store, this lady asked me if I was a little old to be having so much fun at the grocery store.
Kyle: Why would she say that?
David: I think it was because I was pushing the shopping cart real fast and then riding it.
Kyle: Ah, the kids love that, right?
David: No, the kids were at school.
K: I see.
D: I just wish I knew what I was doing when I fondle the fruits and vegetables. Right now, I just fake it.
K: I think you thump melons and squeeze everything else.
D: I know that. I don’t know what the thumping or squeezing is telling me.
K: Can’t help you there. Black spots on the bananas are bad.
D: You know, the best part of the grocery store is browsing the women’s magazines while waiting to check out. Sometimes I pick a longer line so I have time to peruse that smut. I see how fast I can flip to the juicy parts. If you’re really good, you can flip directly to the “What a Man Thinks A Woman Wants A Man to Think A Woman Wants Even Though She Really Wants This” article, find a quick little tip to save your marriage, stare briefly at an undergarment ad, and get it back in the wire rack before it’s time to unload the groceries. I’m getting better at it.
K: Did you see Mila Kunis on the cover of Cosmo?
D: Did I? Flipped to her cover-girl details page in 4.237 seconds (Swiss timing).
K: She is my new favorite. Hottest woman on the planet.
D: Very impressive, yes. The best? Can’t agree.
K: Who then?
D: Terry Gross.
D: Terry Gross from Fresh Air.
K: Terry Gross from Fresh Air on NPR?
K: She’s hot?
D: Is she ever. Haven’t you heard her voice? It’ll make you melt. I try to plan my daily errands around Fresh Air so that I can listen to her. She is the epitome of woman. Great voice. Smart. Articulate. Very cultured. Mature. Beautiful. Long legs. Athletic build. Cute face. Bedroom eyes. And the most beautiful hands you have ever seen. I hold her out as the embodiment of all things good about women.
K: Wow. I’ll have to check her out.
D: Yes, every weekday at noon. Tune in and drift off in fantasy as she chats up some English theater actor that you’ve never heard of. It’s, it’s…sensual.
K: No, I mean, I’ll have to check out a picture of her.
D: Oh, I wouldn’t do that.
K: Why not?
D: I’ve never seen her.
K: How in the hell can she be the most beautiful woman in the world if you have never seen her?
D: She just is. I can tell.
K: You can tell?
D: I can. It’s better this way. You see, you claim that Mila Kunis is the most beautiful woman in the world and you’ve never heard her. Just because I’ve never actually seen Terry Gross doesn’t mean she isn’t beautiful.
K: But what about her legs, her bedroom eyes, her hands for chissakes?
D: I just made that up.
D: It’s something that no one can take from me. I hope I never see her. But I guarantee you Mila Kunis can’t chat up writers in a sultry voice.
K: That’s beside the point.
D: It’s not. You’re just pissed because I’m right.
K: No, I’m pissed because you’re full of shit.
D: You always were a poor loser. Are you going to throw the Risk board?
K: Fuck you.
D: Terry Gross. Just listen to her. And don’t get me started on Sylvia Poggioli.