My Mortal Enemy, James Dyson

James Dyson. My mortal enemy. My wife has a crush on you. She finds you and your ingenious vacuum irresistible. Couple that with your carefree jeans and British accent and I don't stand a chance.

It happened out of the blue one night. She leans over to me and says, "I think that Dyson vacuum cleaner guy is sexy!" Your commercial was not on. We weren't in the process of vacuuming (and, no, I don't own one of your diabolically inventive machines.)

I admit it. I wanted one of your over priced rug-suckers, but now... NEVER! I will pick the dust mites out of my carpet with tweezers and a magnifying glass before I succumb to your seductive sucking machine.

Sexy... You? There are so many better, sexier men for her to like:
Mel Gibson? No wait he has that whole anti-semitic thing.
Tom Cruise? Nope crazy as a loon.
Harrison Ford? lackluster student.
Leonardo DiCaprio? Titanic.
Johnny Depp? Lives in France and owns own island (show off!)
George Clooney? ...... yes, George Clooney, you and your ER, Caesar hairstyle, Oh Brother Where Art Thou, funny, million dollar smile - you're perfect! Why can't my wife have a crush on you? For millions of healthy red-blooded American women you are the shizzle. The dreamy-creamy-ooey-gooey-marshmallowy center of hunkdom.

But no. James Dynson, vacuum man, you are my mortal enemy. It's so hard to hate you and your humble sucking machine, but I must steel my resolve against you. Against you and your steely hair, your less than perfect nose, I will not rest until... until... ok, I WILL rest in about an hour because it's getting late and really who can hate a vacuum cleaner inventor? But just be warned vacuum man, if I am not sleeping, I will be on the look out for you. Keep your innovative hands away from my wife!