If You Seek Jaime

Anyone who's been on the barricades with me knows that I don't lose my shit around celebrities.  I keep my cool, snap my pictures, maybe get an autograph, and move on.  Like a gay ninja (ginja?).  Unless it's a supermodel or Pamela Anderson, beautiful women don't get a reaction out of me (let's face it - I'm a jaded bitch) so imagine my surprise when Jaime Pressley of all people blew my mind not once but twice last week.  So good in all those My Name is Earl commercials that used to play during I Love Lucy reruns during my lunch hour, Jaime was in town to promote her latest show I won't watch in every form fitting, figure hugging, boob lifting short skirt she could find, and I'm sure I would have sounded pervy or offensive telling her how great she looked if my voice was even slightly masculine, but instead I sounded like a nasally Richard Simmons as she thanked me, smiled and posed for pictures.