American Women are Deprived

There’s something I look forward to all year – almost as much as Christmas. It’s the Tour de France. Yet for some bizarre reason, I’m one of the only women I know who even follows it.

This has me completely baffled. (Now guys, if you’re easily embarrassed, this might be the time to click out.)

How could it be that more women don’t stare at the wonderful Tour de France coverage on Versus? The aerial views of the French countryside? The castles, the mountains, the sunflower fields, and 186 fabulously fit men in Lycra?

People magazine may have declared Brad Pitt “The Sexiest Man Alive,” but I think they missed the mark by leaving out Thor Hushovd.

Access Hollywood thinks we want to know all about Tom Cruise and John Travolta. As far as I’m concerned, they don’t hold a candle to Robbie McEwan or Cadel Evans.

If ABC wants to run another episode of the Bachelor, they should call up that handsome Brit David Millar. And if any girl wants to kiss him, she should have to make it up a Category 2 climb without stopping.

Orlando Bloom? George Clooney? Mathew McConaughey? I say a big “Nay!” Give me musical, movie star-worthy names like Carlos Sastre, Alberto Contador, or Alejandro Valverde.

Sexy voices? Does anyone sound better than Phil Ligitt or Paul Sherwen? And how ‘bout those oh-so smooth (bear-like) hands of Bob Roll? (Okay, that last one should have you rolling with laughter, if you’re a fan.)

It doesn’t matter if you understand all the subtle nuances of the peloton. Or the strategic moves that are made by each team. It’s on three times a day. Ladies get a clue, just sit back and enjoy the view.