AND NOW I CAN RULE THE WORLD!

CPR- Just ONE of the things you can learn on Frenchmaidtv.com

I don’t remember where I was or why. It was the holidays in Hollywood and there were so many parties they all ran together, except this one had tiny cheeseburgers for appetizers, free liquor, and a band that I know deep in my ear drums was not very good. My most vivid memory is of three young beautiful women moving in perfect synchronization throughout the bar like Olympian goddesses on their way to a festival honoring them. Even when they were pushing their way to the tiny cheeseburgers they moved in harmony with one another.

The lead siren was a petite knockout with curly blonde hair that fell loose over a little black cocktail dress. She was followed by a soul-shattering brunette whose hair was pulled back so you could see the soft shape and texture of her face, and you could follow the graceful curve of her back dip into the low cut v of her thin strapped black dress. Rounding out the unholy trinity was a sandy haired girl, a bit less formal in designer jeans and a blouse, but no less striking than the other members of her coven. Most importantly, they all wore heels. THANK GOD, I thought. The only three women in Los Angeles who don’t wear snow boots when it’s eighty degrees outside are at this party!

All evening we watched the Unholy Trinity sashay through the party, until the Grey Goose and my genuine belief that the brunette is destined to be my future second ex-wife and/or concubine led my friend and I to directly confront them. I can’t recall what James Bondesque rap we laid on the defenseless lambs, but I assure you there was much blushing and swooning going on. The women seemed to enjoy it as well. FINALLY, I thought. Tonight may be the night I find that special someone who is ready to love me for my money

The Maids of Frenchmaidstv.com

“What do you do?” the knockout blonde asked in a squeaky mischievous voice. A woman’s favorite question! For no explainable reason I decide to tell the truth (note to self: fire therapist). “I’m a writer,” I said with a smoldering confidence usually reserved for bullfighters and astronauts. “What do you do?” I shot back (besides spread beautiful tantalizing evil to the four corners of the earth…).

“I’m on French Maid TV,” she replied. “We all are.” I looked at my future second ex-wife and the girl in the designer jeans. They nod their heads in agreement – “Yes, we too are on French Maid TV.” This can’t be happening. “What, exactly, is French Maid TV…” I ask, “… and can you get it in high definition?” The knockout blonde explains that they dress up as French Maids and teach otherwise uneducated but good intentioned souls (read: perverted men) online how to do stuff like register a domain name for a website. “You can see it,” she threatened, “on Frenchmaidtv.com.”

I  looked at my future second ex-wife again and said, “YOU are in a French Maid outfit giving computer seminars?” “No. I’m in a nurse’s uniform in an episode on CPR,” she said in a manner so shy and sweet it was explosively sexy. In fact, I accused her of being shy to which she made no response, only validating my accusation – or she just didn’t see any need to acknowledge our common destiny at that moment, knowing that true love, or even semi-true lust, is an infallible invincible rose that blooms ripe with passion at its own technically-legal-definitely-not-stalking-just-partying pace.

Sure women love me for my towering five eight frame, swarthy Sheik like complexion, disheveled Egyptian Afro, and mono eyebrow, but even I have been rejected on rare occasion by the opposite sex. No. It’s true. Take a moment if you need to. It’s okay. However, the Unholy Trinity had brought the art of war to menacing new heights. Concocting a story like French Maid TV to torture men and watch them writhe is very Grinchy (remember it was the holidays). I agreed with the girls that French Maids teaching anybody anything is a worthy pursuit and tantamount to genius, but believed deep in my heart they were lying their perfect teeth off. I’m a popular guy with incredibly fascinating and enviable events happening at all hours of every day, so I forgot about French Maid TV. Until yesterday.

After returning from my weekly Bible study group, specifically not returning from doing kamikaze shots at Molly Malone’s for two hours, I got online to surf the web in search of worthy children’s charities to which I could donate most of my income. As fate would have it, the acronym for a charity that provides guidance to African children at risk of being adopted by a celebrity was similar enough to French Maid TV that suddenly there it was on my screen. The vision of my soul shattering future second ex-wife taking half of what I own returned and I didn’t hesitate to click the link. DAMN, I thought. They were telling the truth through their perfect teeth.

Sure and honest as the day is long, the knockout blonde’s description of French Maid TV was on the money. I learned how to register my website. I learned how to barter online. I learned how to find music I like. All taught to ME by beautiful girls in French Maid uniforms. Of course I watched the CPR episode first. There she was, my future second ex-wife, in a sexy nurse’s uniform helping two French Maids revive a third French Maid who had apparently collapsed from being so smoking hot.

It was magnificent. Imagine if you will, the girl emerging from the box in The Nutcracker, or Julie Andrews twirling in the Swiss Alps, or Charlie bursting out of the Chocolate Factory in that glass elevator/rocket, or all the Whos in Whoville joining hands and singing songs, or Rocky’s “We Can All Change” speech at the end of Rocky IV that directly led to the dismantling of the Berlin Wall, the fall of the Soviet Union, and peace in our time, and you will start to begin to approach the feelings of boundless love I felt for this new – dare I say it – I do – ART FORM, which I hereby officially dub New Wave French Maid.

I am aware that there are probably some moral questions being asked right about now, certainly none of them by me, but by better people who look beyond superficial blatantly sexual edutainment and spend their time engaged in the higher intellectual and spiritual pursuits of mankind. Lucky for us those kinds of people don’t slum it on this more dazzling side of the Internet, and would never seek out advice from a woman dressed as a French Maid who teaches people useful things while also increasing their desire to procreate. That’s for conquistadors with good hair like us. Next stop: Frenchmaidtv.com. But remember -- the nurse is mine.

EDITOR'S NOTE:I decided to include some more pictures.

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After you complete your tutorial-- Celebrate with the Maids!

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