Like most women, I have a type. Oh sure, you can swoon over your big muscled hunks, your long-haired Fabios, your sweet talking Lotharios. I go for the smartest, dweebiest guy in the room. I go for guys like Keith Olbermann. I mean, what’s sexier than a guy who wears glasses*? What’s sexier than a guy who uses multi-syllable words and assumes everyone them?
While I’d long been aware of Keith Olbermann, my first real memory of him is a skit he did with Joe Buck about baseball over the decades. I somehow recall tie-dye. Hopefully I wasn’t wearing it. I was also vaguely aware of Olbermann’s rather checkered broadcast career. And I knew that the year I was all crazy about Chuck Knoblauch was also the year that Knoblauch somehow hit Olbermann’s mother with a wild throw.
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