suburban absurdities.

Another great question. For all of these broads, it comes down to voice.

Right off the bat, I’d have to kill Barbara Walters. Sure I’d miss out on some great stories, but, honestly, how could I sit through them, listening to those shrill, piercing, nasal words coming from her face. Put a gag in her mouth and waterboard her, for real.

Next, I’m buying two tickets on the train to Bone Town for me and the Iron Lady. Strong women make the best lovers in the sack. They know what they want, and how to get it. They’re usually down for being taken advantage of too because they know no matter what, they’re always in control. Plus, I’d love to see that pomp of hers, post an all-night pound session, basking in the glow of the morning sun, over a cup of tea and a fag. I’d be accent-uating the positive in her, all night.

As for Evan, I’ve already got the ring. How could I turn down that smiling vocal tone, waking me up every day with some sort of le petit dejeuner or at the least a cup of joe, a fresh croissant from Susina and fresh farmers market fruits, blended and juiced to perfection? I CAN’T! And meals around LA with Jonathan Gold? That’s a fringe benefit I could never get tired of.