The Tale of the Weather Roach

My job has been keeping me busy, busy, busy. I have every intention of writing something very entertaining this weekend—something that will BLOW YOUR MIND, BABY!—but in the meantime, I hope you enjoy the following clip...

...But first, a little backstory: This video makes me very nostalgic as I used to have a roommate—Stephen was his name— who talked just like this weather man. Stephen was from Virginia. And fabulous. And really, really gay. And when he opened his mouth, whatever came out was so astonishingly homosexual that you could practically see a rainbow-colored flag unfurl as he spoke. It was great. A typical exchange between the two of us would go something like this.

Stephen: Hey, huuuuuun?

Kat: Yes?

Stephen: Can I wear my Dior rhinestone cuff with this outfit? Or is that too gay?

Kat: Come in here, let me see.

(Stephen ambles into room wearing drawstring camo shorts--over the waistband of which protrude three visible inches of bikini-briefs printed with pictures of rocket ships-- with sequined flip-flops and a bright yellow t-shirt that says “YEAR OF THE COCK!”)

Kat: Oh my god.

Stephen: Wait, are you getting dressed? Let me help!

Kat: No, really, that’s ok, I think I—

Stephen: I’m gonna make you look soooooooooo cute! What are you wearing, a white tank top? Oh my god, wait—PUT A BLACK BRA UNDERNEATH IT.

Kat: I think you should wear the Dior.


Stephen eventually tired of having anal sex with anonymous men in my spare room, fell in love with a nice boy from North Carolina, and moved back down south. Where, last I heard, they were living in complete bliss with a Russian Wolfhound and a French Bulldog named—respectively—Christian and Dior. (What’s that saying about stereotypes being based in truth?) But anyway, seeing this made me think of him. I really hope he’s still wearing that rhinestone cuff.

And now, without further ado, I give you… The Terrifying Weather Roach.