Everybody loves Howard Stern. And by “everybody,” I mean probably about half of the population. The other half wants to chop off what are most likely disgustingly old and sagging balls and shove them down his throat.
I don’t really have a preference, although I agree he probably has disgusting balls. I fall somewhere in between wanting to have a beer with the guy (only if he’s buying), and wanting to feed him a scrotum sandwich with an extra dose of women’s rights.
I don’t know how to transition into this next part of the story so I’m just telling you I’m transitioning now, which is probably just making it worse. Follow along.
I’m currenty in South Florida, pretending like I’m a baller and not convincing anyone. I’m a horrible actress and I don’t think asking if they serve “Two-Buck Chuck” wine helped sell my story. (They don’t.) But a hey, girl’s gotta dream.
This afternoon I walked through the enormous lobby of the Ritz Carlton in West Palm Beach. In an effort to look important, (and to hide the fact I was wearing sunglasses from the dollar store), I looked at my iPhone as I briskly walked through the lobby. I wanted people to think I was reading important emails, when what I was really doing was checking to see if Amanda Bynes had any new Twitter updates.
SIDE NOTE: If you are not following her on Twitter, do it now. What’s wrong with you?
I quickly realized I couldn’t read and walk at the same time, so I headed for a comfortable looking couch to rest. I almost reached my safe place when I smacked into what I thought was a wooden mop with a black head.
I looked up, expecting to see the janitor and his cleaning supplies. As I lifted my head from my very important correspondence (tweet) I wondered why a janitor was bringing the cleaning equipment through the main lobby area. Didn’t he know very important people were tweeting in there?
And then I saw who it was.
It was fricking Howard Stern…all 92 pounds of him….
I apologized in my best “I’m totally wealthy and I know who you are and don’t care because I’m really rich” voice. I don’t think he bought it. Or if he did, he wouldn’t have been willing to pay more than the dollar I paid for my sunglasses.
Immediately I cursed myself for not buying the fancy sunglasses at Target for $19.99. Had I known I would bump into America’s raunchiest/funniest radio host, I would have splurged. Once again, my love of bargains screwed me over!
He shuffled away with this wife Beth, who looked adorable in her floppy hat that probably cost more than my mortgage.
They both walked away and I realized that collectively they weighed as much as I did.
You know I’m not a good photo journalist, but you guys push me to be better, so here’s the best I could do without looking like a total freak show chasing him to his room with my iPad.
Howard and Beth are looking to move to South Florida to avoid taxes in NYC, so says the word on the street (which is really just my Google search.) I don’t know if that’s true, but if they decide to move to Florida, do you think they will be looking for a roommate?
It could be just like “Three’s Company.” I would even be willing to be the super-annoying Janet and Matt could be the always dapper Mr. Roper.
Come and knock on our door, Howard! We’ll be waiting for you!