What women want...

My wife informed me the other day that she has fallen in love with Colin Mochrie.

Can't blame her — the man is clever, Canadian, and a hell of a dancer. And an aneurysm-inducingly brilliant improvisational comedian.

How do I compete with a man who can improvise lines like:

“Hi. I'm Thor, but not complaining.”

“You seem real easy and willing to put out, so roll in the cream cheese, roll in the cream cheese...”

“Good evening, I'm Lars Lars Pantsonfars.”

“An infinite number of monkeys have just come up with the Fox fall lineup.”

“Today, well-known mob hitman Johnny Two-Shoes admitted that he was once hired to kill a cow in a rice field using only two small porcelain figurines. Police reports indicate that this is the only known incident of a Knick-Knack Paddy Whack.”

“Rosebud — the last word in sleds!”

So I've got my work cut out for me if I'm going to hang on to this woman of such discerning taste. And I still have work to do on my stutter so I can be as dopey as Jimmy Stewart for her.

It's a rough life.