October 14, 2008 by MrBlueSkies
I admit it. I’ve got a crush on the Free Credit Report Dot Com guy. I just can’t help myself. He’s all over the TV singing those cute songs and looking so darn cute in his waiter/pirate outfit, driving that cute beat up car, or riding that shabby old cute bike. His newest commercial has him acting like he’s a big star, singing a sort of rap tune and looking all cute and superior. Then you realize that he’s just the waiter. Omigod! Is that not just adorable? Do you not just want to eat him up for dinner?
Come on, admit it. He’s got that cute curly hair and chubby cheeks and a sexy, smirky poor guy smile that gets ya right where it counts. (Well if it worked for Shirley Temple, it could work for him) He’s got what we call “geeky hotness.” It makes me want to have his baby, and considering that I’m a 48 year old gay man, that’s saying something. If he wants credit, he’s looking in all the wrong places. I’ll give him all the credit he wants–and more.
Ok so right now most of you woman are going, “Oh, you’re right. He IS so cute!” And most of you guys, if you’re even still reading this, are screaming, “Someone, please, somehow show me Pamela Sue Anderson’s breasts before I get sick!” But let’s be honest boys. Men can find other men attractive and still not be gay. It’s a known fact that if you give a straight man the choice between having sex with Bea Arthur or Brad Pitt, 90% of the time he’ll pick Brad Pitt. But I have a sneaking suspicion that they only pick Brad because deep down inside they believe there’s a remote chance of finding a lingering taste of Angelina Jolie on him. (and with those lips of hers, I’m sure that there’s more than just a lingering taste of her on Brad.)
But I digress. This isn’t about Angelina, Brad, or why straight men cringe at the thought of sex between two men but drool over the thought of sex between two women. It’s about me and my infatuation with someone who is probably less than half my age and is as unattainable as Brad and Angelina are. But when I watch those commercials, I feel like a little girl at a Jonas Brothers concert. And I don’t care. In fact, the original Pirate restaurant song is my ring tone on my cell phone. And if he put out a poster, I’d buy it and put it over my bed. If he put out a cd, I’d listen to it every day. If he held a concert, I’d be in the front row jumping up and down, screaming and crying. (can we all say Beatlemania?) But I refuse to go to a Jonas Brothers concert. After all, even I’m not that gay.