I'm honored to have this opportunity again. Rare is the occasion in which I can write a post and not spend the entire time in a state of panic, praying that the magical humor gods don't suddenly desert me. I don't even have to write about a subject! I can just blabber on here! And I'm not even going to have to face Google Analytics and its insistence on showing me only three people read this! Ahhhh, the bliss!
No, but seriously, there is a very serious subject I'd like to discuss today, and that is why Jess Berry is Seriously Better Than You.
Reason #1: Jess Berry is an Accountant.
I used to date an accountant,* and, let me tell you, they are awesome. She eventually dumped me (coughonmultipleoccasionscough), I think because she realized that I was dating her mostly because she was super hot, but also because I would never have to deal with a tax return AGAIN. Seriously, can you imagine the world of perpetual bliss? Smooching AND no taxes? Think about the worst thing you can imagine: like getting slapped in the face repeatedly by inebriated rabid porcupines while being waterboarded with rancid yogurt (no, I am not describing what it is like to smooch me, I am making a point on the misery of taxes), then multiply that by ten, and that is what doing taxes is like.
But Accountants LOVE that stuff!** They LOVE porcupines! They even love rancid yogurt!*** But they especially love doing things like trying to convince the IRS that I don't owe them any taxes for the year in which I lost thousands of dollars on the stock market.
If you'll excuse me for a moment, I need to cry bitter tears of anguish.
Okay. We're good.
Jess Berry is better than you because she is an Accountant.
Reason #2 Jess Berry Can Cook.
Don't let her insistence on calling some mild deviant of Sloppy Joes Sloppy Dans throw you off. She can cook a mean Sunday dinner, and boy, you had better appreciate that, or you have some explaining to do. I once was running late to a dinner she invited me to,**** and I spent the entire drive sweating bullets worried that she was going to call and harass me like she is known to do. And why does she make those phone calls? Because her food is worth it people. Worth. It.
Also worth it: her Sunday dinner stories. On further reflection, I'm pretty sure those might even eclipse her dinner. I have but three words: leopard-print speedo. Curious? Well, you can either come swimming with me sometime,***** or sit down by the fire with Jess Berry and listen to her regale you with Tales from Idaho.
Jess Berry is better than you because she can cook.
Reason #3 Jess Berry Can Golf
Now, only men who are the most secure in their masculinity are capable of even mentioning her golfing ability, because they would be then forced to admit that she can destroy them on any golf course with ease. As I am known to keep a flower in my car, this obviously applies to me.****** Golfing is probably the most masculine of sports, because you drive cars, sit around, and occasionally break a sweat when the temperature in the wilderness in which you constantly hit your ball becomes unbearable, and yet, Mz. Berry rocks the golf course, and even does it without spending the majority of her time diving into lakes, re-raking sand traps while attempting to coerce the sounds of various obscenities to be unrecognizable to the ears of more righteous companions, and suffering from severe bouts of anxiety as crowds of people line up behind you and curse under their breaths for the bad luck of getting stuck behind someone whose sole successful drive occurred at some point in the nineties, and this only by the grace of God.*******
Jess Berry is better than you because she can golf.
There are more reasons Jess Berry is Seriously Better Than You, but we're going to have to cap the list here because:
A) About three people will make it this far into the post
B) I should really be "working" right now, and
C) Do you honestly need more proof than that? I'd say my point is proven.
Q.E.D.
*Okay, she technically wasn’t an accountant when we were dating, but I ascribe to the old adage that accountants aren’t made, they are born.
**Except the smooching me part. See: Getting broken up with, Chris.
***I am just kidding. Nobody likes rancid yogurt. Or that freakishly-blue concoction also known as skim milk. And if they do, you should run as fast as you can and outfit yourself with a wooden stake or something because they are CRAZY. Oh, what's that you say? You like skim milk? Excuse me while I find that stake I stashed around here somewhere...
****She, being kind and loving, occasionally invites the local hermit out to interact with humans.
*****I kiiid, I kiiid. Even if I wore a speedo, you can bet I would never admit to that in this G-rated venue. Unless you like that sort of thi...I KID!
******Great thing about driving with flowers: you can continually claim it's evidence of your heightened masculinity, when it, in fact, is clearly not.
*******Incidentally, do you see how long that sentence is? It's a freaking monster. Now THAT'S a masculine sentence ladies. You'll overlook that sissy flower bit before, right? Right? And I realize I changed subjects/tenses/everything in there at least twice. It was intentional. How else can you get through a sentence that long? Seriously, who do you think I am? Wait, don't answer that.
