You know every guy is thinking, "Yeah, mine should just about fit."
That woman...Mizz Lewinsky, born July 23, 1973. Yes, that's right. Monica Lewinsky, the foxy little doxy that caught the roving eye of our second most sex crazed president, Bill Clinton. (Sorry, Slick Willy, top prize has got to go to the ever stoned and pathologically priapic John Fitzgerald Kennedy.)
Hard to believe that its been over 11 years since the scandal of the Presidential blow job broke wide open on the then barely known Drudge Report. The country was riveted for months with tales of sex, lies and cum stained dresses. Oh, it was all so horribly sordid. And - come on ya gotta admit it - more fun than a barrel of masturbating monkeys. I remember women not understanding how the president could be so reckless with somebody so declasse' (meaning not one of them). Maureen Dowd explained it all to them when she called Monica "the closest donut on the platter." And for the guys, near unanimous agreement with the thesis that a knob polish from somebody you didn't really care about was not sex and therefore did not count as cheating. Ah, good times, good times.
My dad used to tell me that the only thing keeping him alive was being able to wake up every morning to more Clinton shenanigans in the paper. Sho' nuff' he died 2 years into Bush 43.
I'd give anything to have Clinton back now. (Bill, I mean, NOT Hillary.) Much better a finger wagging, poll driven political whore who wouldn't ruin the country because it would reflect poorly on him, then that droning, self righteous, meglalomaniac true believer Obama, who's going to burn the place down in order to save it.
Get thee back to the White House, Monica, and work that magic. Your country needs you.