An Awkward Phase
I have been catching up on Last Week Tonight and I gotta say- I want John Oliver inside me. I do. I really, really do. I want that gangly very-British faced comedian all up in there. "Why?!" you ask. There's the accent, for one. I'm a sucker for an accent. Sure, it would be lovely to meet a buff black gentleman with an English accent in the way of Idris Elba- but I don't know much about Idris Elba's comedic timing. A myriad of unfortunate facial features, not that Oliver has them, could be excused with a good accent and smart comedy. I'm sure a lot of why I have tolerated Scott for so long is the fact that he can make me laugh. Idris Elba and 8 year relationships be damned, though if I could get a chance with John Oliver. He has me considering working at the IRS! The obvious comedy goldmine that would be a career at the IRS aside- this post is not really about John Oliver and my animalistic sexual attraction toward the man. It's about...