I have to admit it – I have the hots for Jo Frost, host of “Supernanny”.

Jo Frost

Maybe it’s the British accent. Maybe it’s her stern voice and mannerisms, her authoritative personality that make me take notice. It could be her stout frame and those hot glasses. I don’t know what it is. But I love me some Supernanny.

You know how I feel about “Supernanny”. I was watching the show tonight, where she rolled up on a single father who had two kids, neither of whom respected him. At all. Now, I’m not gonna rant again about my issues with the parents on this show because really – if they’re calling Supernanny in the first place, they’ve already proven that they fucked up in Parenting 101. The last time I watched the show, I was focused more on the demon seed children cursing and hitting the pussified parents than I was the big-boned angel who descended from Heaven (or the Spokane International Airport…whichever).

This is to you, Jo.

Those eyes, those lips, those thighs, those hips…they’d make a lesser man crumble under their sheer magnitude. You put the ‘maximus’ in ‘gluteous maximus’! But not me, Jo. I’m ready for you. Some people would take issue with your size, your beautiful shape, your voluptuous curves and your ample cleavage….but not me. More to love, sweet Jo. More of you to love. Those haters have no appreciation for the jiggly goodness you possess, and their loss is my total gain.

Daaaamn Jo, do fries go with that shake? You got that onion booty – so round, it makes me wanna cry.  I KNOW you know some weird, freaky, tantric sex tricks that would make my – nevermind. You know what’s up. You’re not without your faults, though. You and I disagree on one fundamental point: whupping ass. You’re not a proponent of corporal punishment, instead employing something called the Naughty Chair (now called the Reflection Chair, I do believe), where the child is supposed to sit and think about the dumb shit he just said or did. I believe that works about as well as a bike with square wheels, but on the show, the kids always seem to react well to it, so it’s hard to argue with you on this one point. But I still say that if you were to whup a little ass, you wouldn’t need that extra furniture taking up space in the dining room. You could put a ficus there. Spruce the joint up. And a solid spanking just ONCE will put the fear of you in them, thus preventing some of the stupid shit they’ll later consider doing. The Chair of Reflection? I WISH I had something like that when I was a kid. 5, 6, 7 minutes of sitting quietly without my mama yelling and beating me with broomsticks and trophies (true story)? Where the hell do I sign up? That’s like the difference between community service and doing hard time with a cellmate named Rufus who hasn’t seen a highway since “Highway to Heaven” was on prime time. Spare the rod, spoil the chances of you seeing him graduate college. We’ll have to agree to disagree on this point, seeing as how you’re rich and on TV, and I’m using uPromise to pay for my kids’ college.

All that aside, my cream-filled caregiver, you rock socks. I found a song that really captures how I feel about you, Jo. I sing this song…to you.

Are you gonna take me home tonight
Ah down beside that red firelight
Are you gonna let it all hang out
Fat bottomed girls
You make the rockin world go round

Hey I was just a skinny lad
Never knew no good from bad
But I knew life before I left my nursery
Left alone with big fat fanny
She was such a naughty nanny
Heap big woman you made a bad boy out of me
Hey hey!

Ive been singing with my band
Across the wire across the land
I seen evry blue eyed floozy on the way
But their beauty and their style
Went kind of smooth after a while
Take me to them dirty ladies every time

Oh wont you take me home tonight?
Oh down beside your red firelight
Oh and you give it all you got
Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin world go round
Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin world go round

Hey listen here
Now your mortgages and homes
I got stiffness in the bones
Aint no beauty queens in this locality (I tell you)
Oh but I still get my pleasure
Still got my greatest treasure
Heap big woman you gonna make a big man out of me
Now get this

Oh you gonna take me home tonight (please)
Oh down beside your red firelight
Oh you gonna let it all hang out
Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin world go round
Fat bottomed girls you make the rockin world go round
Get on your bikes and ride

Oooh yeah them fat bottomed girls
Fat bottomed girls
Yeah yeah yeah
Fat bottomed girls
Yes yes

I’ll be watching next week, when you rescue some poor family from their awful kids who were apparently raised by wolves, instead of the simpering, crying parents you actually show on TV (because wolves are too unruly). I’ll be there, wanting to slap the taste out of the mouth of a child who calls his momma a bitch, and wanting to beat the parents with a bamboo stick with RESPECT written down one side, and YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME written down the other. I’ll be there, Jo.

Come to me.

Oh, and bring me a pizza.