Table for Homina?

I was standing at Target the other day, and I had that ethical dilemma of "do I stare at the woman in front of me while she purchases her many items, or should I cast my eyes around the store in an attempt to look like I'm not staring daggers at her for arguing over the price of a see-through plastic tote?". I decided to do the latter--in between telling my children they could not have a piece of candy, because, hey, Halloween is in a few days--when my eyes should fall upon the following:
After pushing my goggling eyes back into my head, rolling my tongue back up and putting it in my mouth, and taking a hit off my asthma inhaler to try and curb the panting, I wondered, "Who is Amy Adams?" Not wanting to waste my lustful exuberance, which I had previously reserved for Tiffani, the dark-haired beauty running the check out, I did not pick the magazine up to thumb through it in a quest to sate my libidinous curiosity. Instead, much like if I wanted to find out information about Ron Paul or That Blue Yak, I googled my query. The innernets did not let me down.

Instead, quickly, they caused me to sit in my chair (I had to sit down because the blood rushed elsewhere) and utter "homina homina homina homina..." over and over again. I discovered that Amy Adams was the woman who played the real life princess in Enchanted, and I also quickly rued the fact that I had not taken my daughter to see it when it was on the big screen, thus depriving myself of twenty-foot tall slabs of pure sex appeal and gorgeousness. I mean, here is a woman with red hair, shapely hips, beautiful eyes, gorgeous voice and big, round luscious breasts, and I didn't know about her??? Moreover, you sonsabitches didn't tell me about her. Curse you all. Douche bags.

This has caused a bit of friction at home. I asked my wife--yet another red head with shapely hips, beautiful eyes and big, round luscious breasts--to sing True Love's Kiss rather than our normal sexalicious song, The Theme from Shaft (can you dig it?). While not amused, she accommodated me because she's just that awesome. I mean, it was bad enough when I told her we needed a bigger bed so that Leelee wouldn't be upset by being relegated to the couch. Now this. The Mrs, however, took it all in stride. What a trooper. Unlike Leelee, who went out and tried to make me jealous right away by being pictured with other fellaz. I guess that whole woman scorned thing has a merit of truth to it, eh?

Oh well. Now that we're all done worrying about red states and blue states, we can get back to the real important things: women with red hair. I think both sides of the aisle can appreciate that that is truly change we can all believe in.