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My morning routine is fairly simple. I’ll wake up and shower about an hour before I leave for work. Then, it’s a sensible breakfast of a spoonful of peanut butter and a quick chug of milk. Catch up on Twitter, which is the worst. I’ll ask Alexa (not at all a huge deal that I have an Amazon Echo) what traffic and weather looks like. Her cold, emotionless robot voice will emptily ring through the kitchen and my heart will sink as I lazily lick what’s left of the chunky Jif on the spoon. There’s no pep. No zest. My day could start out so much better than this.
Good thing local network television exists. It saves my life every morning. I used to turn my nose up at my local affiliates. Why would anyone watch something so negative? So sad? I want to live a life of ignorance. A life in which I do not live in a murder and child abduction factory. A life where unsuspecting citizens don’t get swindled by shady subcontractors. I want to live in a city where the two most important things are the weather and the traffic, and who better to help me live in that fantasy world than a real life, honest to goodness angel AKA the local morning news girl?
You can keep your national anchors. Go ahead and swoon over your Megyn Kellys, your Mika Brzenskis, your Brooke Baldwins. False idols. Give me local talent over and over again. Until I’m blue in the balls. It’s like they know me. Why would I turn to Siri to let me know how traffic is looking on 435 when I can get it from a total babe with a billion dollar smile wearing a Chiefs jersey (#RedFriday)?
Shooby doo wop and scooby snacks, I met a fly girl and I can’t relax. Only problem is, she’s the local ABC affiliate traffic girl and judging by her Instagram, has been engaged for four months.
I can’t help it. I’m lost in it. Can’t keep my mind off those traffic and weather reports. I could just get it from my phone, but no. I need it handfed to me, 45 seconds at a time while I sip on my coffee. Never mind that they’re all stunningly gorgeous, I am a man of refined tastes. I’m mature. I can look beyond physical attractiveness. The allure of these girls cannot be boxed into some beauty pageant scoresheet. No, no. They speak to me. They speak to my inner tribal mentality. They know everything about my hometown. I know this because their Instagram profile is littered with pictures at local landmarks and they ask all the other anchors if they caught the end of that crazy game last night before throwing it to the sports desk. Dream women, I’m telling you.
I’m not talking about regular crushing either. I’m not writing her name over and over in my padfolio at work or making a mix CD. I’m talking “buy $30 worth of grocery store beef, mushroom caps hors d’oeuvres, bust out a homemade Olive Garden salad dressing recipe I found on Epicurious and fire up the Wine & Dine playlist (Alexa, play “Take Me Away” by John Legend)” level crushing. W&D is for closers only, men.
Is it a phase? I don’t think so. I’ve been crushing on the local news girl since jump street. My hierarchy of forever crushes:
1. Kate Beckinsale
2. Local news girls
3. NFL cheerleaders
4. Bond girls
5. Real World/Road Rules female cast members 2003-06 (Cameran from RW: San Diego forever)
Is it all an act? Of course it’s an act. Their job is to make you fall in love with them. Temptresses! Not fair! Fake news! They’re damn good at it. Sick of this. Swindled again. But what will I do tomorrow morning? I’ll wake up and get my traffic and weather from her again. I’ll go back to the well. I’m a broken man.
So I’ll keep dreaming away. Keep starting my mornings with a hot cup of charm, in dumb admiration of how these girls can be so full of life despite having to be awake at 4am Tuesday-Saturday. That ain’t easy to find these days, you guys. I’m a fan.
At the risk of sounding cheesy, I think I fell for the girl on TV..
Image via Jenny McDermed’s Instagram