You do great weather.
Hell…you give good weather!
I do not concern myself with your cosmological aptitude. I don’t care if you can define cloud formations or Pacific Ocean atmospheric patterns. I just love that you incessantly follow that awesome stage formula every time as you embark on each daily weather report on KTLA.
The weather segment begins with you and your lame cohorts sitting behind the news desk. You (your better half) are hidden from sight, but we, the leering viewers, absolutely know there is something good back there which will be revealed once your segment begins and all the bad jokes are cracked. This is your daily moment to stand up and prance around in front of the weather green screen. We await that, Vera! Us horny guys act like stupid girls wondering what exactly you are wearing today, something we won’t know until you bound out and steer us through the mild Los Angeles weather forecast.
Your buxom, cottony clouds burst out your tight dress and you have that nice, nimble, high-tide ass that always peeks out so temptingly from that profile you innocently create for us. This is what we live for, Vera!
I don’t know what I find hotter; the way you seem to climax when noting that Ojai’s overnight temp will be 31, or those shoulders which flare out that ill-fitting dress. You lift weights, don’t you? Yeah, just keep flexing those and my chance of precipitation is 100% tonight, baby!
Man, I’d love those legs around my neck as I show you my sticky dew point!
Yeah, open them a little wider, let’s see if we can measure tonight’s visibility.
Lord, do you even know your left ass cheek from a high pressure ridge? Who the hell cares.
I just want to feel your hot Santa Ana’s wash over my neck as your gale force frenzy melts into my thrusts!