When the TV is on at Kiko's House
, it's probable that the Weather Channel is on the screen. Mind you that the sound is off and I'm webstreaming an FM station, but an all weather all the time channel suits me.
Trouble is, the Weather Channel is no longer all weather all the time and that's starting to piss me off.
I can abide the prime-time shows on the Storm of the Century, the Flood of the Century, the Dramatic Chichuahua Rescue of the Century and all that stuff, but the Weather Channel is slowly but surely morphing into a showcase for glamorpusses who spend less time reading the weather than chit chatting from its original line-up of meteorologists who looked and seemed like ordinary folks like you and I.
The chief offender is the terminally perky Stephanie Abrams with her Force 5 choppers and come hither look, even when she's wearing four layers of GoreTex.
I know that I'm probably in the minority on this one, at least among my fellow male Weather Channel addicts, but I have a few words of advice for them:
I don't need someone to stick their tits in my face to find out what the barometric pressure in Sioux City is. Keep it simple. Please.
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